Christmas 2008---From Bethlehem to Gaza

For me, Christmas of 2008 is different than earlier Christmases because of where I was last February. Yup, Bethlehem. It's not like I was on some spiritual quest. Far from it. But there we were in the heart of the Holy Land. At the front lines, or damn close to them, of the conflict between the Palestinians and the Jews.
Most Americans traveling to Israel have a religious experience in mind, but we were just intent on seeing another interesting part of the world. Our detour from Jerusalem to Bethlehem was really just one of those fortuitous traveling accidents, a convergence of opportunity and convenience.
The fact is, Bethlehem is just over the hill from Jerusalem but it's one of the places Israel has ceded to the Palestinians. Getting there was easy but weird as we had to switch cars and drivers at a scary sort of border crossing.
Once we arrived in downtown Bethlehem, we were greeted by an unusually well-spoken Palestinian in western dress. It turns out he was a powerful guy and we're still not sure how we wound up in his hands. Within minutes, we were whisked like heads-of-state to the manger, the official birthplace of Jesus, ahead of a 1+ hour line of anxious Christians. Feeling guilty over cutting the line, and hoping to keep our Kharma intact, we didn't linger.
Our trip to the Middle East included more points of interest and memorable events than I can recount, so our Bethlehem moment, though anything but disappointing, fell something short of the "event of a lifetime" standard. But now it's Christmas of 2008, and there is the Church of the Nativity and the Midnight Mass in full display on international tv. Newspaper accounts say it was the best Christmas in Bethlehem in 8 years (not sure why) with a large, festive crowd, full of love, immersed in their collective Christmas moment.
Meanwhile, 45 miles away, the more violently inclined Palestinians in the Gaza Strip were launching bombs into Jewish territory just east of the Gaza border. Apparently the Christmas spirit failed to fill their hearts with the loving, peaceful emotions those in Bethlehem experienced.
The Israeli military responded with an airstrike leaving several dead. There is now serious talk that they have had enough and that it may be time for a military incursion into Gaza to take out the radical Palestinian terrorists, once and for all. Until they strike again. Which everyone knows they will.
But here in Eugene, Oregon we enjoyed a truly peaceful Christmas. One of the ultra-rare white ones, as it actually snowed a bit here for the first time in nobody-remembers-for-sure how many years. So, here's wishing you Peace on earth. Especially in Israel. And don't forget good will toward men.

My Newest Song: "Bailout"

Sometime jammin' produces results. A few nights ago, my friend Big Mike the bassplayer and I were playing. At a certain point, we strayed from the realm of familiar tunes we perform publicly and started jammin'. Before long, I was improvising lyrics over an upbeat slightly reggae groove, and out came a very pleasing chorus based on the word "bailout".

Have you heard that the term "bailout" was selected as the New Word of the Year for 2008? It's true. One of the major dictionary companies started the annual New Word Award to raise awareness of linguistic evolution and as a sort of literary counterpart to Time's Person of the Year Award.

Thanks to the tanking economy and our government's commitment to stemming the tide, bailout legislation is front page news. Now it seems like any industry in distress is asking for a bailout. The Big Three automakers' request for free money has, thankfully, not been that well received in the Beltway. But boy have the biggest financial institutions hit Congressional paydirt.

Unfortunately, for those millions of poor folks experiencing the worst kind of financial suffering, relief has been hard to come by. Apart from the measly $600 stimulus checks some have received, almost none of the middle and lower class has received meaningful help. Perhaps the new administration will find a more equitable means of addressing this issue.

In the meantime, I have taken poetic license to work the ironies of this national tragedy into a pretty darn catchy tune. It even has one of those choruses that folks can't help but sing along with, which is nice. Here are the lyrics to the chorus:

Bailout, bailout
Hey buddy can you spare a dime?
Bailout bailout
If your mortgage was subprime.
Bailout, bailout
Let's help the rich ones first.
Bailout bailout
So the economy won't get worse (that's what they tell us)

The song is equal parts Michael Franti and Graham Parker, two of my favorites, so thanks to them for the inspiration. Once I get "Bailout" down, maybe I'll post a video on this blog---I'd like you to hear it. Here's hoping that very few of you, my faithful readers, need a bailout and that you are in a position to offer needed help to those in distress. Happy holidays.

Overflowing With Thanksgiving Day Gratitude

I'm grateful as hell. Sure, all's not right with the world (is it ever?) and there's more suffering in nearby quarters than we've seen in a long time but not enough to stem the abundance of gratitude I am feeling.

Let's start with the obvious---Barack Obama's presidential victory gives our nation and the world cause for serious optimism. It's so much more than a racial thing, although that's a story that will resonate through future centuries. President-Elect Obama is showing a commitment to excellence and balance in the choices he is making. This is a leader dedicated to finding exceptional people and demanding the highest level of competence based upon service to the citizenry. This mostly non-partisan approach is so rare and refreshing, it will be interesting to see how much push-back he receives and how he deals with it.

Other things for which I am deeply grateful: My wife. My parents. My children. My job. My fingers. My health. My friends. The health of my wife, parents, children and friends. Our freedom from strife. Our new dog (cute and friendly as can be, and best of all, nearly house broken). And much more.

I'm grateful for the chance to work in a supportive environment with folks who share my passion for all of my pursuits, musically and professionally and especially for those endeavors which involve benefit to our community. I am profoundly thankful that I was raised in a supportive, functional household that encouraged positive thinking, expected its members to work hard and to appreciate the fruits of their labors. The example set by my parents has led to a deeply satisfying life for me and I feel that I have achieved some success in passing those values along to my children.

I am grateful to live in a place where a support network exists even for those who experience considerable suffering, and happy that I am able to contribute to parts of that network more and more as time goes by.

I think it's time to pick up my favorite guitar (and I'm thankful to have several beauties that I love) and play a few songs of thanks. I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving and hope that you are able to find things in your lives for which your gratitude is abiding and real.

Updating My Technology

These days, anything old school has a cool factor. I must admit, I like it that way. Of course, this is just a matter of sticking a new label on nostalgia. Think of all the terms we use to describe old stuff in a positive way. Like retro and vintage (as opposed to old-fashioned and passe). When newly used, these terms seem to make folks feel that they are the first ones to recycle old ideas.

Is it our desire to be creative and hip that moves us to feel that by applying new terms to old things, we are doing something unique? It shouldn't. After all, people have been aping old behaviors and trends since, well, since humans were apes. (Note to Sarah P---this actually did happen).

When it comes to technology though, old school stuff just doesn't cut it. If you don't keep your technological gadgets at least somewhat current, they become useless, functionally obsolete. Especially computers, with cell phones and tv's close behind.

What makes me think of this is the new Dell computer the FedEx guy delivered to me yesterday. I'm about to try setting it up, but before launching into that frustrating but ultimately rewarding effort (that's what I'm predicting anyway, being a total technology klutz), I thought I should post one last blog entry on this outdated piece of machinery.

Too many knowledgeable friends have assured me that this old processor is too slow and needs to be put out to pasture. Here I imagine a lovely green field with miles of freshly painted fence surrounding hundreds of computers in an untended herd a la Far Side which I still miss.

The new computer holds the promise of breakneck speed plus the allure of a 24 inch high definition widescreen, unencumbered by any of those pesky old cables that are soooo 2006. Still, part of me feels unfaithful to this keyboard, monitor and processor which, for the most part, served me very well. Sure, there were times when things didn't go quite right, and I generally felt like it was more its fault than mine, but overall, she served me well and I know I will miss her, with a mourning period that will last right up to the point the new Dell and I have established a solid working relationship. Figure a week.

Shaping Up For The Shedd

Motivation is good. But getting motivated is tricky business. This is especially true for things that are optional. Take, for example, the act of rehearsing songs you've played hundreds of times.

I now have musical motivation. It's right there on the calendar: January 31, 2009. It's listed in the local newspaper each week. Advertisements and posters are showing up with my picture. My upcoming show at The Shedd Performing Arts Institute is a big deal and I am determined to be at the top of my game. Can't let the home folks down, gotta give 'em their moneys worth. This motivation is real and powerful. And it makes me happy.

Even when my motivation slides, I still play guitar every day, at least for a little while. But now I'm sharpening my chops. I have summoned a higher level of concentration and I plan to nurture it passionately for the next couple of months. When my musical concentration kicks in, good things happen.

New song ideas keep popping into my head and old songs seem to possess a new energy. Ever notice how artists sometimes vary the musical arrangements of their old songs, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse? My old songs are morphing a bit these days and I'm determined to let this happen spontaneously, hoping that the changes will add depth and nuance. The audience will decide and I do not wish to let them down.

Sometimes I regret that my day job and other commitments interfere with my music. But mostly I'm grateful that I have the freedom to live the way I do and that music, even though it isn't my sole career, still occupies a huge and important part of my life. On January 31, I will have the opportunity to show folks in my hometown what I'm musically all about these days. I can't wait.

The Audacity of Hope: Sometimes It Pays Off

The world yelped with glee, then breathed a collective celebratory sigh of relief. Barack won, McCain gave a wonderfully statesman-like concession speech and for the first time in most folks memory, we are newly invigorated with hope and the promise that change is coming.

So often our hopes and dreams have not come true. For the past eight years, not only have they not come true, they have been stomped upon and crushed against the concrete like a dirty, spent-to-the-filter cigarette butt.

We must not be naive about the prospects for meaningful change. As Barack said, our path is long and the road will be steep. But last night, as the champagne corks flew, hope took new life.

When I told my parents that this was the most important election of my life, they said it was the most important election of their lives too, and they are in their eighties, old enough to remember The Great Depression well. Old enough to have fought, and for my dad to witness death over the skies of Germany, in World War Two.

Obama's story, his message and his charisma resonated with people of all ages and backgrounds (ok, not ALL, looking at the list of red states it's obvious which parts of our country can't shed their blinders) igniting a worldwide celebration. Let us savor the moment, recognize that occasionally our greatest hopes are realized and be prepared to do our part because, as Barack says so eloquently, progress and change cannot be achieved without sacrifice.

Nov 4---The World Is Watching Us

Friends are good, right? Not tag-a-long friends or users, but real friends. Our current president, by all accounts a social frat-like guy, has shown surprising indifference to our nation's friends and allies. And that has cost us.

November 4 is a day the world will remember for a long time. We will send a message to the world with our ballots. That message will be one of two things: either we care about our international friends and want to resume our rightful place as a beacon of hope for the free world, or that we really are indifferent to our relationships with our so-called allies.

There is, of course, so much more one could talk about. The wars, the economy, the environment, the transference of wealth and power from the public to the corporate arena, the shrinkage of the middle class, the stacking of the Supreme Court, etc.

When I attend memorial services, something which tends to happen more frequently as we get older, this is when folks talk openly about things that matter most. To most people, nothing matters more than friends, family, the bonds of love between them and how we choose to spend our precious time on earth.

It is the same with nations which are, after all, just large groups of people with whom we have more in common than we generally care to acknowledge. So as the world watches us today, let us not disappoint. Seldom does an election offer such a stark contrast between competing world views.

As a lifetime student of politics, a political science major, a brother of a well-known political writer who immersed us both in the world of politics since childhood, I am struck by how important this election has become. To me, it is by far the most important election of my lifetime. This will either be the saddest or the happiest election day of my life. Soon we will know.

Not All Effigies Are Created Equally

Did you hear about the Hollywood Halloween prankster with the Sarah Palin effigy? This seems to strike most folks in a comedic way. Seeing Sarah with her Neiman Marcus designer suit, expensive hair and make-up, all $200,000 worth, dangling alongside other mock-scary Halloween monsters---this is a hard to mistake as anything other than a joke from America's capital of irreverence.

Sure, Sarah's supporters won't see it that way but they aren't known for abundant senses of humor. In fact, they are generally challenged with all things involving sense, so we can depend on them to take umbrage. "Oh, the horror!"

Effigies of Barack Obama---are they the same or different? To some, I suppose an effigy is an effigy. But this is wrong because it ignores our national history. Given our shameful behavior patterns of bigotry and violence toward African-Americans, KKK lynchings and burning crosses, a Barack effigy connotes something far more sinister and despicable than dangling Sarah.

Imagine having a conversation about this with Rush Limbaugh or Bill O'Reilly. I can see them bursting a vein at the very suggestion that there's a difference. But as with most things, knowledgeable people know better.

The campaign is quickly coming to a close. And closure is good. Especially if the outcome is the one you want. This time, the world is paying closer attention than usual. I pray that we do not disappoint.

Songwriting 101: Finding Inspiration

Writer's block isn't just for novelists. It afflicts songwriters too. At least that has been my experience. How to solve the problem? Here's an easy answer: lower your standards. Oh wait, I already wrote that song. Seriously, it's on my first cd.

If there's a trick to songwriting, it probably lies in ones ability to find inspiration. Imagine a songwriter sitting at the table, day after day, trying his best to crank out new tunes. Without inspiration, chances are quality will suffer. We've all heard enough crappy songs to know that songwriting isn't easy.

But inspiration can be divine. Consider your favorite songs and try to imagine what is was that led the writers of these masterpieces to write them in the first place. Songs are not generally not like science projects, things you can start on from scratch and build on over long periods of time until you've finally achieved a complete result.

Most of the time, the inspiration for a song does not spring from nothing. I've tried to just sit down and write songs---for me, anyway, the process of devoting time to creating new songs rarely yields satisfactory results. More often, I get hit with an idea. It can emerge from personal experience or it can just pop into my head. When it comes, the first thing one must do is to recognize that you're on to something. That's harder then it sounds, because inspiration lies before us constantly and we generally fail to see it.

Sometimes in the early morning hours, like when I get out of bed because I need to pee, I have trouble getting back to sleep. Sound familiar? You start thinking about things, and before long your inner monologue becomes a noisy chat room and your chancing of getting reunited with sleep in the next hour look increasingly dim. Sometimes, in such moments, song ideas occur to me. But there's a dilemma: do you get of bed to start working on the song or take a chance that you'll remember your great idea when morning comes?

I actually have gotten out of bed a few times to write down my ideas. More often, I don't and the song idea has vanished by morning, just like most of my whacky dreams. Such a shame, such a waste. But damn, if you get out of bed and start writing, what are the chances you'll rediscover slumber anytime soon?

A couple nights ago, I managed to break this dreadful pattern. Yup, I thought of a song idea in the middle of the night and somehow managed to remember it the following morning. The song is called "My Restless Brain", and it's about how the A-side of the brain keeps me awake while the B side wants me to have a nice dreamy sleep. It's a funny little song. The last verse goes like this:

The A side needs the B side,Knows the B side is his soul, And the only way to get there, Is through his tight A-hole.

Last night I got to see Dar Williams and Sean Mullins, two very accomplished songwriters. They played at The Shedd in Eugene where I'll be performing on January 31. Great show. Now there was some inspiration, so if you'll excuse me, I've got to start writing down my new ideas before they evaporate.

The Elusive Sedona Vortex

Lots of folks swear by it. Some claim it changed their lives. For the better of course. Others leave unhealed and disappointed. I'm talking about the vortex in Sedona, Arizona.

I had never been to Sedona but the photos I'd seen looked spectacular. More massive red rocks than you can believe, all right outside your window. Then there's the buzz about the vortex. So when I arrived in Sedona last week, I was determined to learn all I could about the vortex.

First things first. Just what is the vortex? After asking a few people, it seems to be this: Some believe that the Sedona area possesses a unique healing power and that this has been recognized for centuries, first by the Native Americans. According to their oral history, Native Americans did not live in the red rock area surrounding Sedona because the spiritual forces were TOO powerful. Instead, they would come to this area for spiritual cleansing and growth. No doubt the combination of red rock and peyote generated bucketfuls of enlightenment.

Ever the skeptic, for me, talk of the vortex all sounded a bit like so much New Age hocum. The notion that by standing in particular places, I could experience some sort of healing strays so far from my personal experience that for me, this was a tough sell. Many Sedonaites and New Age devotees see things very differently though. In fact, the leaders of the New Age movement believe that Sedona is one of the world's best sites for achieving a state of spiritual and even physical healing.

I felt the legend of the Sedona vortex eminently worthy of further investigation. So I talked with quite a few folks, especially bartenders, about the vortex. From the bartenders, I learned that lots and lots of people move to Sedona to get healed. They just keep on coming. Drives real estate prices through the roof. Optimism runs high. Apparently results are mixed. Many leave unhealed. But that doesn't stop others from coming.

I wasn't expecting to get "healed". I had a big problem---I wasn't sure what condition I had that needed healing. But I did love the place for its natural beauty. The air quality is high, and not just in some pristine scientific way. OK, here I know I'm sounding a bit New Age-ish but I'm telling you, Sedona is a place where the inclination to indulge your creative muse runs strong. I felt like writing a bunch of new songs. But our time was quite limited, so we did plenty of hiking instead while thoughts of new songs danced around my strangely active brain.

I had the opportunity to perform and meet some wonderful new folks. Then we headed north to the Grand Canyon, but that's a story for another time. So here's my ultimate recommendation: go to Sedona. Don't expect to get healed. You're better off to keep your expectations low---that way you may be in for a very pleasant surprise.

TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN

All the big boys are taking a hit. Some will not survive. Merrill Lynch, Shearson Lehman, Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley---the REALLY big boys. The same ones that have created more millionaires and billionaires, especially for the investment bankers who run these places, than history has ever seen.

Even the rank and file at these companies were paid six and seven figure Christmas bonuses. Hey, who couldn't use a little extra cash at Christmas? Now they're in free fall, and some are down for the count. But wait. Who's coming in to help? The federal government, of course. In other words, you and me.

I have no problem with the government bailing out AIG---if the nation's biggest financial insurer went belly up, millions of ordinary folks and small businesses would be in a world of hurt. It's not the same, though, with the investment banking sector. So why the bail out?

At times like this, my cynical side wins out. Probably because it's dead right, again. Remember when W stepped in to bail out the subprime lenders and his answer to the real victims, the people whose houses were being foreclosed, was to give them a "stimulus package" of something like $600. Nice package, huh?

That was just one year ago. But it turns out that the nasty subprime mess has not run its course, and the very institutions that profited so handsomely when the going was good now get bailed out by the government when the going sucks. Sweet deal.

On an individual level, so many of those employed in investment banking are set for life, and for generations to come, and I mean really set, there's no reason to feel sympathy for them. They're the ones who took the money and now get to run. No consequences for them. A gentle landing into a sublime world of temporary unemployment perhaps, a perfect time to count the money. Maybe invest some of those earnings while things are tanking, watch the bailout lead to a speedy recovery in the market, and before you know it, they've pocketed another fortune.

Steve Miller's classic tune "Take the money and run" says it pretty well. But not as well as Dylan's great line "steal a little and they'll throw you in jail, steal a lot, they'll make you king".

Return Engagement

Two words of which I am especially fond: Return Engagement. Creates the impression that the first show was so well-received that the audience DEMANDED another. What am I talking about? I have been asked to perform at The Shedd. For a second time. Sweeeeeet!

In April of 2007, I was honored to be asked to perform at The Shedd for the first time. This coincided with the release of my last cd, "Party of One", and it was one of the most memorable performances of my life. Why? First, it's a top notch venue. It's sort of like a Eugene version of Austin City Limits. The performing arts hall in The Shedd seats 800 and many world-class artists have performed there.

Second, I was one of the first local artists to be invited to perform at The Shedd. And the show couldn't have gone any better. My old friend and record producer Gary White agreed to join me for the show, coming to Eugene from LA. Many close friends and family members attended, including my parents.

If you've ever checked out the video of me performing on this blog, that footage is taken from my show at The Shedd. Well, my Return Engagement (pardon the capital letters, like I said, I really like those two words) is scheduled for Saturday, January 31, just before I plan on leaving for Australia and a few shows Down Under. More about that later. More about all of this return to music later.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, it's mid-September, the sun is bright, the scenery is spectacular this time of year and I'm feeling happy as can be. Oh yes, this is enough of a diversion to temporarily keep my mind off those dark Sarah thoughts.

Sarah Inspires Me To Song

Inspiration can be hard to find. Songwriters agree on this. So it's important to start writing when inspiration strikes. Lose the moment and you've lost the song. Did you know that some of the greatest songs ever written came in a flash? Such inspiration truly is divine.

The inverse side of the songwriting conundrum is that often, great songwriters work for years on a song and never find satisfaction. Once Brian Wilson trashed an entire album many described as a masterpiece. Thirty years later, "Smile" was finally released.

Right now I'm grateful as hell to Sarah Palin. She has inspired me to write a song. A song about her. I haven't written it yet. I'm still gathering material. Seems like every day there's a new revelation.

Sometimes when I'm writing a song, I jot down a list of all the thoughts I have on a topic. Throw in a couplet or two, a few key rhyming words and before long, you're a chorus away from a good song. Other times, you have a strong idea for a chorus, build a few verses, maybe toss in a bridge and kazaam! You've got a song.

For my Sarah song, there's such an abundance of material, it's like shooting moose, I mean fish, in a barrel. She's got the AK-47, the husband who wants Alaska to secede, the 17 year-old pregnant daughter who was raised in a household preaching abstinence and family values. You've got Sarah so proud of her daughter's choice, a choice Sarah wants to deny to every pregnant woman, rape victims included. Because abortion is murder. Nothing wrong with gunning down a pregnant moose though. It's all in good sport.

Such a plethora of material for one song idea is truly rare. This song practically writes itself. In fact, I think I could write an entire Sarah album of songs. Sergeant Sarah's Lonely Heart's Club Band. Or something like that.

Sarah is asserting herself. She's plucky and pissed. She doesn't like being compared to people like Hillary. Thinks she's so much better than that and certainly more on the right track than misguided souls like Barack Obama and any Democrat who ever lived. Thinks they're all going to hell. I'm afraid that if she's elected vice-president, we all might be.

One Heartbeat Away---McCain's Strangest Move

Sarah who? Oh sure, the one who was mayor of Wasilla, Alaska. An obvious choice for vice president. How did the national media manage to overlook her when they were analyzing McCain's vice presidential prospects?

This election has transformed from odd to bizarre overnight. I guess McCain was thinking that Hillary's supporters are so dumb that they'll vote for anything female. Hey John---helloooo---I'm no woman but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works.

Some say McCain was worried his support among the religious right needed to be beefed up. Like they were ever going to vote for Obama/Biden.

This is a selection which is downright scary. Let's not pretend that McCain can't be elected. Remember 2004? McCain is 72 years old, and even if he were the healthiest person on earth, that puts his veep one heartbeat away from the presidency. And who would that be? Sarah Palin.

If only she were related to Michael Palin of Monty Python, I'd feel much better. But she's not. Here's her background: age 44, mother of 5 (yup, just gave birth to her 5th child at age 44), served a couple terms on the Wasilla City Council, then was mayor of Wasilla until 2006 when she was elected governor of Alaska. Education: bachelor's degree in journalism from the University of Idaho. Job experience: tv newscaster in Alaska; helping her husband with his commercial fishing business.

Let's say you own a small business and you're thinking of hiring someone as office manager. Honestly, there's a pretty good chance Sarah wouldn't even get an interview. But McCain is telling us she's the most qualified Republican to serve as Vice President for the United States of America?

As governor, she fired the head of the Alaska's state law enforcement agency and there's considerable evidence she did this because he refused to fire Sarah's sister's ex-husband from his job as a state trooper. Hmmm. Stay tuned to this ethics investigation. I'm sure we'll hear a lot more about this.

Get this---she thinks the Bush administration is too liberal when it comes to environmental policy. Can't understand why Bush would want polar bears to be listed as an endangered species. Thinks we should drill more oil from Alaska, even more than McCain. Seriously.

This would be amusing if it wasn't so real. Undecided voters take heed. If Sarah were president, who knows what might happen (don't forget: one heartbeat away!) I'm afraid she could make W look good by comparison, and I didn't think that was possible.

Let's not forget the absolute capper of this deal. McCain's most blistering criticism of Obama so far, his rallying cry, is that Obama LACKS EXPERIENCE. Well John, what can you tell us about Sarah's experience?

Clinton Contrition

This is what they live for, Bill and Hillary, and they delivered the goods. At the Democratic National Convention in Denver and a huge national television audience, both Clintons delivered moving speeches calculated to unite the Democratic Party and sway undecided voters to back Barack for president. Was that so hard? For them, yes it was. And I fear it will continue to be.

But for now, let's give props to the Clintons. After months of unsubtle swipes at Barack Obama, some decidedly below the belt, the Clintons put on their best face at the final hour when it mattered most.

Stay tuned though. 2012 is never far from Hillary's mind. Bill's too. Let's hope that between now and November, they shelter their ambitions and continue to let the nation believe they truly support the Obama-Biden ticket. But when Bill Clinton stepped on stage on the song "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" was blaring, I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that it means something very different now than it did in 1992.

When Politicians Turn Bad

This Hillary thing keeps reminding me of when I was a kid. We played baseball a lot in our neighborhood but most of the time, there was only one baseball bat. The kid who had the bat made the rules. If he didn't like how things were going, he'd take his bat and leave. Game over.

As we got older, everyone learned that it's just wrong for the kid with the bat to set the rules. That's not what adults do. Or so we were told.

I often wondered what it was, exactly, that got the kid with the bat to share. I liked to think that he learned something important. That it's better for everyone to share. But maybe he just learned that if he didn't share, he'd get in trouble with his folks or that a group of angry kids might beat the crap out of him. Community interest or self-preservation?

Which leads me to Hillary. So often it seems that she would rather have McCain win than Obama. And we all know why---if McCain wins, she has a better shot at the White House in 2012. From the standpoint of the nation and the world, does she really think a McCain presidency would be best? Of course not. But her level of caring for the nation pales in comparison to how much she cares about herself. This now seems obvious.

I used to admire her tremendously. I hoped she would one day be president. I thought she possessed all the qualities of a great international leader. Not any more. It saddens me to learn that her greed and vanity trumped her interest in serving the greater good.

Then there's Bill. Most scholars give him high marks for his presidential tenure and I think history will uphold this positive view, perhaps even enhance it. And in his first 4 to 6 years as a former president, Bill conducted himself admirably on the world stage using his power for the benefit of many world causes.

Then he lost it. He's like the kid with the baseball bat. And he's pissed. And it shows.

The Clintons have a shot at redemption. It comes at the Democratic National Convention. But it doesn't end there. They need to campaign tirelessly for Barack. If they don't, the world will know that they care only for themselves. In which case I will continue to think "Shame on them". Bill and Hillary, please don't let that happen. Use your power for the greater good and don't pretend you don't know what that means. We're not that stupid.

The Evil Republican Spin Machine

Forgive me. I thought we were a nation that cared about truth. Forgive us. For we are a nation of idiots. I suspect this statement won't enhance my chances for victory if I were to decide to run for public office. On the other hand, the evidence is overwhelming---we ARE a nation of idiots. How else can any rational person explain that a majority of our citizenry accept without question the ridiculous mean-spirited lies the Republican spin machine cranks out?

Have you heard about the new book "Obama Nation"? A Karl Rove-ish Swift Boat redux. The New Republicanism cares only about results and cares nothing about process. The New Republicanism, as a core value, believes that it is justified in telling lies about exceptional citizens, who happen to be Democrats running for executive office. Why? Well, for one thing, they can get away with it. They know that most Americans are not critical thinkers. Collectively, we are dumb and lazy, willing to believe whatever toxic lies the Republican Rovers spew in our general direction.

For another, it gets results! Witness the re-election of W in 2004. W's performance as our president from 2001 to 2004 will go down in history as a disaster, yet our nation of idiots re-elected him. And for us to re-elect W in 2004 proves, once again, they we as a nation are gullible and foolish. Of course, there is also the possibility that both elections were rigged, Florida in 2000 and Ohio in 2004.

What amazes me most, though, is the hypocrisy. The Republican's are attempting to marginalize Barack claiming he is an elitist. Let's see, Obama grew up in a household with a single parent, excelled at academics and athletics, and lacked any of the privileges one normally associates with elitists.

McCain, on the other hand, was the son of an admiral and the grandson of an admiral. He didn't deserve to get into the US Naval Academy but strings were pulled and it happened. Never an exceptional student, McCain's chief to notoriety seemed to lie in his ability to survive as a POW in Vietnam. I'm sure this was a miserable time for him, but is the ability to not die while being fed crappy food by Communists really something that qualifies someone to be the Leader of the Free World?

So who's the elitist? Let's not forget that McCain's wife is mega-rich, if not a billionaire, she's close. And despite all this, McCain is asking for Americans to vote for him because Obama, not McCain, is an elitist.

By now, everyone has seen McCain's add comparing Obama to Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. This stretch of reasoning is priceless. I think it goes like this: because Barack has become famous, he is like Spears and Hilton. Since Spears and Hilton are dumb, lame celebrities, Barack must be a dumb, lame celebrity. That's called a syllogism. Our nation of idiots doesn't know much about these and falls for the trap. Shame on us. Funny how the person many Republicans say was our greatest president, Ronald Reagan, was a celebrity, and in spite of this disqualifying attribute ("Bedtime for Bonzo"), not to mention his dementia, he managed to do a bang up job as president.

Barack's celebrity world-wide seems to derive from the sense of hope he inspires. Nobody since JFK has inspired hope at home and abroad. The Republicans realize that they can't inspire hope. The stock-in-trade of the Republican Party has been reduced to lies and fear-mongering. Shame on us, the nation of idiots, that this seems to work so well.

Beijing----Where Freedom Doesn't Ring

Today the curtain rises on the Beijing Olympics. Weirdness is guaranteed. Sports fans, the kind who tolerate gymnastics and water polo and wrestling and crew and weightlifting in small doses once every four years, will be mildly entertained. NBC will bludgeon us with "up close and personal" profiles. Advertisers will advertise. I can hardly contain my excitement.

Actually, since the US Track and Field Trials were in Eugene, I'm anxious to watch Olympic Track and Field. How often do you get to see people you know from your home town compete in the Olympics? Can't help but wonder how much that nasty Beijing air will impair performance though. Running hard, especially at long distances, is a painful experience. Having run plenty of marathons, I know this based on harsh experience. I can't imagine how much the pain will be compounded by the unavailability of decent quality air to breath.

But the strangest thing of all will be the whole Chinese spectacle. The Communist Chinese government broke their piggy bank, at enormous sacrifice to the people they govern so cruelly, to put on a show to dazzle the world. The newly constructed Olympic facilities are architectural marvels---kudos to the Chinese for that, I guess. But nice buildings and well-choreographed ceremonies cannot conceal China's colossal shortcomings, from human rights to environmental Armageddon.

Let's just hope that this Olympics is free of terrorism and that the games unfold without tragic mishaps. The Chinese have set the bar at world record height. I'll be happy if we somehow manage to get through unscathed.

2008 Rogue Adventure: Highs and Lows

This wasn't how the trip was supposed to begin. The night before our group of 9 was set to launch our rafts on the Rogue River, we learned that a woman drowned on Blossom Bar earlier that day. Our collective mood was already apprehensive because Blossom had claimed another life four weeks earlier.

We didn't commit to this trip because we wanted to tempt fate. This trip was about re-connecting with old friends over a few days of whitewater and a few nights around the campfire. Sure, we knew the Rogue was dangerous and that mishaps are commonplace. In years past, each of us had perilous encounters---flipping rafts or kayaks, adrift in wild waters struggling to reach a point of safety. Such events take place almost daily on the Rogue.

But never before had Blossom Bar claimed two lives in such a short time period. Was it because the water levels were 50% higher than normal for the summer? Was it merely goulish coincidence? Unable to purge such worries, but determined to proceed with the trip as planned, we committed ourselves to safety and caution. Not that we were especially reckless in earlier trips, but this time, we did things a little differently.

The Rogue trip takes four days. In the past, we tended to drink plenty of beer during the calm stretches on hot afternoons and we often removed our life jackets after passing through dangerous rapids. Not this time. In earlier trips, there was always a point in the trip, usually after passing through Blossom Bar, when we lowered our guard, figuring that since the biggest hazards were behind us, we were somehow immune from the dangers that still remained. Inevitably, this is when most of our mishaps occurred.

This year, our concentration remained high throughout the entire trip. The result---no screw-ups, no scary moments, everyone home safely. But there was one especially unsettling moment. When we arrived at Blossom Bar, just as we were tying up our rafts to scout the life-threatening rapids, a helicopter came in close. Was it there to attempt to remove the body? Was it there to get footage of another rafting party's flirt with death?

Turns out that unlike the earlier drowning victim whose body was unable to be removed from the rapids for over two weeks, the second victim's family was fortunate to recover her body within a day or two. Still, it was weird and ominous that a helicopter would arrive at Blossom Bar at the same time we did. We didn't like it.

Apart from our worries, the trip went like a dream. There's nothing quite like spending time on an outdoor adventure with your best friends. Everyone stayed up late singing, partying and laughing. As expected, my fingertips nearly bled from the many hours of hard guitar playing. We had a ridiculous encounter with a complete asshole who we nicknamed "Pajama Man"---a territorial guy who refused to share a much larger campsite than his party needed---but the result of Pajama Man's ugly behavior was that we met a couple guys who became good friends and joined our party for the last two days of our trip. Mathew and Kelly (who looks like Owen Wilson but with a better nose) became welcome additions to our group.

We're already planning next year's trip. Our hearts feel so badly for the friends and family of those who died on the Rogue. We like to think that we honor their memory by continuing to raft the Rogue's dangerous waters.

Rogue River Rafting: Unplugged

Everyone loves a wild river. Not many folks get the chance spend time on one. Lucky me, I do. Every year or two, seven or eight of my oldest friends get together for a spectacular and somewhat dangerous trip down the Rogue River in Oregon.

Here's a short list of the things I love about this trip. First, the scenery is spectacular beyond description. The Rogue River's "wild and scenic" section (designated by the US Congress) is world class water, surrounded by virgin forests and majestic canyons in western Oregon. Second, the peaceful feeling of camping in the wilderness for 3 nights, away from cell phones, computers and the stresses of modern life is something we all need but rarely get. Third, and best of all, is the chance to spend unrushed time with my closest friends, guys I don't get to see very often.

There's one more thing---the music. Every night on the river, I'll be playing guitar and singing my ass off. By the end of the trip, the deep calluses on my fingers will have the skin ripped off from playing so long and hard. Music,of course, is among the strongest forces that bind the friendships in our group. In college, we danced and partied to the our favorite artists in a golden age of music. On the Rogue, we will recapture some of that energy.

The river level is high, the sun is bright and my friends arrive from Portland, Seattle and San Francisco in about an hour. When I get back, I'll tell you all about it.

Terrible Taser Trouble

Police love tasers. They claim that tasers promote public safety. Isn't it better to "deploy" a taser on an unruly citizen than to be forced to use deadly force? So goes their rationale.

Last month in sleepy but politically active Eugene, Oregon an 18 year old protestor holding a bucket of water was "subdued" by local police with a taser. Many witnesses describe the use of such force by the police as being unnecessary to the point of being criminal.

It turns out that the 18 year old was wearing protesting the use of pesticides and claimed that his bucket contained poison which he was spraying around the public square. The police were uncertain whether he was telling the truth and didn't want to risk exposure to poison. That sounds plenty reasonable but why introduce the taser?

The strangest thing about this little demonstration is how it got reported to the local police. As it turned out, a vigilant employee of the Department of Homeland Security was maintaining surveillance on this small demonstration of 30 pesticide protesters. Wow, talk about Big Brother. What other kinds of things is the Dept of Homeland Security spying on? Chances are this blog is being monitored. And maybe your email. Does this make you feel safer?

Back to tasers. How dangerous are they? Here's the party line: the 50,000 volts a person temporarily receives temporarily disables them enabling police to secure the individual. The voltage is painful but after application of a 1-2 second burst, most individuals experience no further pain and have, at most, minor burn marks from the fish-hook barbs. Hmmm. Mainstream media (CBS) reported that taser use by police was responsible for 70 deaths in a report published in 2004. The manufacturer of Tasers denies that the electrical charge imparted by the Taser is responsible for no deaths. Who do you believe?

July the 4th, 2008

This 4th of July is special. You know why. It's the last time we'll be celebrating Independence Day with W in office.

Since W was selected as president nearly 8 years ago, our national prestige and pride has plummeted. The world thinks less of us (US) and it's easy to understand why. W's disregard for human rights and the environment has brought shame on our great nation.

I could, of course, go on quite a rant, but others have done that so often and so well that there's not much point in heading down that path.

Instead, let me recommend that you celebrate this 4th of July with special vigor and enthusiasm. Let's hope that next year, we have a new brand of leadership (McCain won't give us that; anybody who thinks otherwise needs to smell the coffee). Without a doubt, Barack Obama will restore our standing in the world of nations. No president can be expected to solve all our problems but Obama's election will surely resurrect the respect America once commanded. And we can depend on being able to celebrate every 4th of July for years to come.

Beijing Journey Starts in Eugene--US Olympic Trials

Eugene, Oregon is known as Track City. It's a long story but the condensed version goes like this: The University of Oregon established a tradition of track excellence early in the 20th Century. By the 60's, a succession of outstanding athletes and a pair of legendary coaches gave Eugene a high profile in the track world. This, in turn, gave Eugene the chance to host the US Olympic Trials in Track and Field in 1972, 1976 and 1980.

Of all the great Olympians connected with Eugene, Steve Prefontaine's legacy is most enduring. Today isn't the day for a post about Pre though. It's a story about the return of the Olympic Trials to Eugene. The Trials began here yesterday and they will continue until July 6.

Some call it the most exciting track meet on earth, better even than the Olympics themselves. Why? Because you can't be a member of the US Olympic team unless you finish in the top 3 in the Trials. No exceptions. As a result, sometimes the best athletes in the world don't make the team.

This event has brought our community together like nothing else could. Folks have come from every state to attend the Trials. Huge crowds, great weather, outstanding performances, all combined with a festive atmosphere. That's a tough combination to beat.

Every day after the Trials end, a music festival begins next to the stadium. Excellent cover bands rock the place, local microbrews (and of course Bud and Bud Lite) are abundant and the living is good.

Even for people who don't know much about track, this is an unforgettable event. I'm proud that our community is rising to the occasion and happy that so many visitors get to see Oregon at its finest.

For the athletes, this means everything. The dream of Olympic glory in Beijing cannot become a reality without success in Eugene. Poignant moments abound. The realization of one athlete's dream means failure for another. Such pure athletic competition is hard to find these days. I love it.

The Etiquette of Barber Break-Ups

Nathan was my barber, oops, I'm mean "hairstylist", for 15 years. No, this is not an obituary. Nathan is alive and well. It's just that I don't see him anymore.

Nathan always did a good job and the conversations were plenty interesting. Nathan's shop is in the heart of downtown. This means that he cuts the hair of many professionals and businessmen.

When I started playing more gigs a few years back, my Nathan-esque haircut started looking out of sync with my performing self. It had a slightly comb-overish quality. This really bothered my wife, a person who used to do hair in a fashionable salon on the Oregon coast. And I can't say I blame her. In fact, I greatly appreciate her concern for my appearance.

Once I agreed to let my wife cut my hair, that was it for Nathan. But the thing is, he's a guy I like, respect and admire. And I never took the time to discuss this change with him. Once I bumped into his hair-cutting partner Mac and explained the situation to him. He said they figured something like that happened. But that's not the same as me telling Nathan.

Why am I writing about this? My sensitive side is telling me that I owe Nathan the courtesy of a face-to-face explanation. What is the etiquette of barber break-ups anyway? Does it depend on the nature of the relationship? Or the length? Or the reason for making a switch?

I'm thinking I'm overdue to drop-in on Nathan and tell him what I great guy I think he is. To tell him that my wife now, more or less, insists on cutting my hair and pointing out that the avoidance of domestic strife is a smart man's top priority. And I know he would understand. I feel like a little bit of a jerk for not doing this a long time ago.

But the thing is, if I just drop in on him, he'll probably be cutting someone's hair when my mea culpa moment arrives. That seems awkward. Calling him on the phone is too impersonal. Hmmm.

Yes, there are bigger problems in the world but right now, I want to set things right with Nathan, my old barber friend.

A Little Encouragement Goes A Long Way

Thanks. I guess maybe somewhere deep inside, I needed a dose of encouragement. In lasts weeks post, the implied message was that it seemed like my live-performance activity was something I could let slide, and somehow feel ok about. Suddenly I started getting inquiries, lots of them, about when I'm going to play again. They were coming from sources near and far, known and unknown, in person and by email. Enough of them to convince me that people really do care, more than I thought.

I remember an old tv commercial from when I was growing up, one of the many really dumb ones. It was an advertisement for an after-shave product, maybe Gillette's Skin Bracer After-Shave. A guy is looking at his freshly shaved, quite ordinary face in the bathroom mirror. A hand appears from off-screen and slaps the guy hard on the side of his face. The guy says "Thanks. I needed that."

Now I'm that guy. So to all of you who have been asking when I'm going to perform again and encouraging me to do so, I say Thanks. I needed that. I'll make the changes necessary in my life to make it happen. And I can't wait.

Finding Time To Perform

I admit it. Lately it's been tough to find the time to perform. It wouldn't be so bad if it were easier to book satisfactory gigs. But it isn't easy. Sometimes I'm tempted to think that this problem is uniquely mine. Not so. Every musician I know experiences this problem.

Discussing this topic with my LA producer/long-time friend Gary White, I have learned that even for first-call session players, things can be tough. Not exactly headline news that things have always been tough in the arts.

My situation IS somewhat unique though. Here I am, still working my day job as an attorney, mainly defending poor folks charged with misdemeanors---minor crimes which are generally the result of making dumb decisions after drinking too much. Then I discovered that I really enjoy creating new living environments using sustainable products. Some people characterize this new activity as real estate development but I don't really think of it that way. I prefer to think of it as community re-development because I'm taking worn-out, unattractive buildings and replacing them with new places for people to live that are visually striking and environmentally sensitive.

In the process, I've learned a lot and made many new relationships with architects and professionals in the building trades, many of whom are artists within their own areas of specialization. Through a highly collaborative process, we have designed and built a couple projects which some describe as "Northwest Urban" architecture.

I am proud of what we have accomplished. I have a newfound passion for this and I find myself wanting to do more. But there are problems. For one, it is not without significant financial risk. But mostly it takes a lot of time. Before I starting doing this, I was very busy with music and law. Now that I have added so much real estate activity to my slate of activities, I'm busier than ever. Something had to give. None of what I do is easily sacrificed but it seems that the task of trying to book gigs is the thing I am least inclined to do. The result---performances have been rare.

I still pick up my guitar every day. And I still intend to push the music when time allows in the future. But for now, I'm seriously immersed in a new kind of creative process. Without seeking any recognition for this new activity in the media, I've gotten plenty. I've been featured in several articles recently and I'm happy to say that the portrayals have been flattering. One called me a "renaissance man". I am humbled and flattered by such attention. But mostly I hope that my example inspires others to be adopt building practices with a greater sensitivity to the environment. Yes, it costs more money initially to build using sustainable practices and materials, but in the long run, you save money, the consumer enjoys a better product and society benefits. If you know any developers, encourage them to learn more and if they have any questions, have them contact me. I would be delighted to share my knowledge and enthusiasm.

When Tragedy Strikes Strangers

You read it every day---"teen killed in drive-by shooting", "tornado in Georgia---8 Dead", "50,000 Die in Chinese Earthquake", "140,000 Cyclone Victims Perish In Myanamar". The frequency of such tragic news has a way of numbing my soul, coating your feelings with teflon. But the collective weight of so much death eventually drags one down. And the knowledge that the victims are all innocent, that it could be you, can prod you to a state of heightened empathy. Still, there is a strange comfort that arises from the thought that such deaths are, in a perverse, disconnected way, anonymous. And the less you are connected to such deaths, the more abstract they seem.

Such is the odd and unsatisfying knowledge that although death visited itself upon thousands, at least you didn't know them. Not personally anyway. And not their friends or family, hopefully.

A few evenings back, I heard there was a terrible accident justs two blocks from where I work. The following morning, newspaper reports told the story of the accident---a motorist collided with a bicyclist and the bicyclist, a 27 year old man, died. Having lost a friend in a bicycling fatality two years ago, I found myself feeling one thing: please let this person be a complete stranger. The newspaper didn't identify him pending notification of his family.

The following morning his identity was revealed with harsh impact. We didn't know him but we know his parents who we recently befriended. They live in our neighborhood. We have many friends in common. Our children attended the same schools. It turns out his parents were traveling in Italy when they got the call that is every parents' worst nightmare. His mother is a gifted musician who founded an all-woman steel drum band, the kind that cranks out happy music that can keep you dancing for hours.

My feelings of sorrow and loss for our friends cannot be captured in words. Such feelings were once abstract in my life, but with the unexpected loss of my brother several years ago, I discovered a new kind of grief. I feel that kind of grief for our friends now.

Dreams About Flying and Finals

I guess I'm not so weird after all. Turns out a couple of my recurring dreams are shared by many. Not every last detail, thankfully, but the gist of these recurring dreams is surprisingly common. One dream is liberating and magical, the other a harsh dose of "I'm in college-age deep shit now and I can't believe I let this happen".

THE FLYING DREAM: In this one, I develop the supernatural ability to fly. I fly over beautiful landscapes, arms outstretched, dreamily euphoric. Sometimes I ascend to great heights, then zoom low for a better look, effortlessly maneuvering around majestic rock outcroppings. Occasionally I fly indoors, often in gymnasiums where my ability to slam dunk draws gasps from the crowd.

I am told that such drams are a sign of good mental health. Sounds reasonable, but why then do I sometimes find myself surrounded by a forest of high electrical lines threatening immediate death by electrocution?

THE UNEXPECTED FINAL EXAM DREAM: This one leads to a restless sleep. I find myself back in college near the end of a term. Suddenly I realize that for the last few months, I haven't attended any classes, read any of the material or prepared for finals in the slightest way. What to do? Is there any way to avoid failure? And what would failure mean in my life? How could I, a normally responsible person with a record of solid academic achievement to that point, allow this to happen? Oh, the horror!

I hear it's fairly common to experience "worst nightmare" dreams too, so I guess I'm not as neurotic as I once thought. In real life, I don't think I'm neurotic at all. So why does this dream pop into my sleepy brain several times a year? Is there part of me that needs reminding that if I don't stay responsible, the consequences will be bad? That people will think of me as being an undependable flake with a questionable reasoning skills?

In truth, I've had far worse dreams than the recurring final exam dream. The one that really bothers me deals with death and has me as the central figure in an unsolved murder. When this dream starts getting really ugly, there's nothing I like more than waking up to remind myself that hey, it was just a dream.

My favorite dreams? Once every couple years, sometimes when I'm in a foreign land, my dream takes on a quality so realistic that I am find myself completely immersed as if the dream is actually real, and in the dream, I am interacting with a historic figure at an important point in time. In such dreams, the experience is so poignant that in my mind, the dream is inexplicably real. Once when I was in Paris, I had a dream in which Napolean and I spent a few enjoyable days of friendship together. This was pre-Waterloo and his later exile. "Nappy", as I called my newfound chum, was musing to me about his rise to power, the joys of conquest and sharing personal thoughts in the way close friends do. Another time, back in the days of pirates, I walked the streets of Christiansted, St Croix in the US Virgin Islands on a night with scattered clouds and a full moon, savoring every moment of danger and intrigue. Although both dreams occurred years ago, they are permanently etched on the bedrock of my memory, both occupying a treasured place.

I never studied dream interpretation and don't pretend to understand what all this nocturnal nonsense is about, but I must admit, for the most part dreams are wonderful things. Very often my dreams are whacky as hell but there's something about how the sleeping mind works that fills me with gratitude. With a few notable exceptions.

Michael Franti and Spearhead

Tomorrow night Michael Franti and Spearhead are performing at The Cuthbert Ampitheatre in Eugene, Oregon and I'll be there, rain or shine. I'm amazed how many folks remain unfamiliar with this band. I give them my highest recommendation.

Franti and Spearhead are Jamaican and at times, they sound totally reggae but that's not their whole deal, not by a long shot. They have a world beat sound, they rock like crazy and their music compels you to move.

Best of all, they have a message---in the best tradition of artists like Bob Marley and John Lennon, theirs is a message of peace and of revolution. Their lyrics raise important questions about the true motives behind most modern wars and they have a fresh way of articulating their skepticism about political leaders worldwide.

Add it all up, and it's easy to understand why so many are hopping on the Spearhead bandwagon. Their fans are mostly young latter-day hippies with a fondness for herb. Yup, tomorrow night should be great fun. I'll let you know.

Barack Photo

My friend Shannon Walker, an excellent photographer by the way, managed to catch a shot of my conversation with Barack Obama. As you can see, Secret Service pulled in tight to make sure nothing weird happened. I'm still buzzing about my encounter with the man I hope will be our next president.

My Conversation With Barack Obama

Life's greatest moments often come when you least expect them. My conversation with Barack Obama last night certainly falls in that category.

I first learned of Barack long before he was a national figure because my late brother Steve, a prominent journalist in Chicago and nationally, sort of "discovered" him. At the time, Obama held no office and was running for a position in the Illinois State Legislature. Steve's life in journalism and his lifelong interest in politics had put him in the company of every president from Nixon to W, and Steve was a person with a keen eye for serious political talent.

In Barack Obama, Steve saw a remarkably intelligent and charismatic person, and he said so in several of his regular columns in the Chicago Sun Times. In fact, I understand that Steve was the first journalist to compare Obama with JFK and to predict that someday he could occupy the White House. I know Steve would have been thrilled to see this prediction come true.

Last night, I was attending a track meet in Eugene where the US Olympic Trials in track and field will take place next month. Quite unexpectedly, Barack Obama showed up---he's campaigning in Oregon, of course, because our presidential primary election is next week.

As Obama made his way through the surprised crowd shaking hands, he passed directly in front of me, and as we shook hands I asked him if he remembered Steve Neal. What happened next will stay with me forever. Obama froze, changed expressions, and focused his eyes sharply on mine saying "Of course I remember Steve Neal". I explained that Steve was my brother and Obama said "Steve said many very favorable things about me early in my career, and although he was well respected for his objectivity, his columns were extremely helpful to me at that point". He more or less said that he might not be where he is today if Steve hadn't jump started his career through the power of his columns in the Chicago Sun Times.

Barack has met Steve's widow, Susan, and his two daughters, both recent college grads, and was very aware of Steve's tragic and unexpected suicide in 2004. He asked how the family was doing and asked specifically about the girls. We wished each other well, he had a brief pleasant exchange with my wife, and then he moved on.

Altogether we spoke for a minute or two. We were surrounded by Secret Service and a throng of admirers, all no doubt wondering why Obama was spending so much time talking to me. I was already a stalwart Obama supporter, but my close encounter confirmed what I thought, namely, that he's even more powerful up close. Barack has an obvious captivating aura of goodness and wisdom. He's a unique politician with a special ability to excite, inspire and unite our country like nobody we've seen for generations.

Steve was far ahead of the curve in identifying Obama's star qualities. Other than JFK, who was the last American as capable of inspiring hope in our country or worldwide as Barack Obama? In a world where hopes and dreams are continually diminished by frightening developments and new threats, no force can match the power of hope. More than anything, I pray that our country chooses Obama in November. Our best prospect for changing the dark reality visited upon us by our current leadership, and for renewing worldwide admiration and respect for our country, lies with Barack Obama.

Eric Clapton's New Autobiography: "Slowread"

Ever since Cream's debut, I've been a big Eric Clapton fan. Among the artists of his generation, few have managed to evolve over the decades in such admirable fashion. In interviews, Clapton presents himself as a thoughtful, articulate and humble soul. When his autobiography was released recently, I was interested to learn more about the man. Bad decision.

To his credit, Clapton acknowledges that his drug addiction and alcoholism caused him to behave terribly and hurt many for over twenty years. He admits that he was a shallow, womanizing lout whose sole contribution to the world came in the form of music. Well done Eric.

So what's my problem with the book? Let's start with this---it's a boring read with little in the way of unexpected revelation or meaningful insights. Eric could've used a stronger ghost writer. Second, while he admits a modicum of bad behavior over the years, he tries to pass off a lifetime's worth of despicable acts by pointing toward a poor family support structure, neatly absolving himself of true responsibility for carrying on like a complete asshole for twenty plus years.

Third, I am troubled by his refusal to offer the slightest comment on any world issue at any point in his 40+ year career. He addresses this with a sentence or two at the end of the book by saying something about how this would detract from his musical presentation and that he just isn't that interested. I'm not buying that. My interpretation of his comments about values and his penchant for rifle hunting with $10,000 collector shotguns on private English game preserves makes me think he knows he would alienate much of his audience if he spoke openly about his political views.

And if his fans knew that he was indeed an asshole, would he continue having the financial clout to buy 150 foot luxury yachts and mansions throughout the world? For Eric, I get the impression that simply wouldn't do.