Bruce Springsteen « Vichy Water

April 12, 2015

It’s heavy. It’s not my brother or a hard rain but the old Upstage Club in Asbury Park, NJ, USA A Memorial? April 12, 2015 By Calvin Schwartz

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Asbury Angels, Asbury Park, Bruce Springsteen, Carrie Potter Devening, Joe Petillo, Margaret and Tom Potter, NJ Discover TV, Tara-Jean McDonald Vitale, Upstage Club, Vini Lopez — earthood @ 4:55 pm

It’s heavy. It’s not my brother or a hard rain but the old Upstage Club in Asbury Park, NJ, USA A Memorial? April 12, 2015 By Calvin Schwartz

the facade of the old Upstage at midnight. a meditative place

the ascension of psychedlic stairs

This op-ed blog or whatever it is, structurally, is best designed to be that stream of almost absurd consciousness that I’ve grown accustomed to these past few literary years. Suddenly, last summer, I heard The Everly Brothers singing ‘Bye Bye Love’ in a pinball amusement place on Ocean Avenue in Belmar, New Jersey. It’s 1957 and my parents rented a bungalow for August. If I behaved all week, watched my three year old sister Hildy, walked her in a stroller around the block every weekday morning, then when my father came down by Jersey Central rail train on the weekend, the family would go to Asbury Park’s boardwalk on Saturday night. My first experienced love of the city.

local percussionists on the boardwalk. part of the musical magic of Asbury Park

with the President on the boardwalk by Convention Hall in a steady rain

I’ll get to the Upstage. What I’m doing now is creating the background to suggest I am eminently qualified to deliver all kinds of coinage (two cents) about the city of Asbury Park and this special place on Cookman Avenue that launched a thousand musical ships, future careers and dreams. Well maybe not a thousand. Let’s cut to four years ago. Suddenly, during the summer of 2011, I became a journalist covering all aspects of Monmouth County life. The epicenter of that life for me was Asbury Park. I’ve covered the President visiting the boardwalk, Zombie Walk, Jersey Shore Dream Center (food pantry & kitchen), NJ Hall of Fame Induction, Light of Day, Hurricane Sandy, Asbury Lanes and Dr. Sketchy, all the historic music venues, Asbury Park Musical Heritage Foundation, Asbury Park Comedy Festival, Bamboozle, Food Bank of Monmouth and Ocean Counties, Jersey Shore Arts Center (the old Neptune High Building, hmmm?) and have spent countless days and nights, seemingly full-time becoming a denizen of the boardwalk.

As much as four or five times a week, I absorbed music all over the city; even a collection of indigenous drummers, percussionists and hula-hoop purveyors on the boardwalk, before police would chase them away, all reveling naturally in self-expression before a setting summer sun. Yes, the ingredients of a real music city.

my posing in 2012 .at the Upstage. the pose was suggested to me by a special photographer.

Bruce Springsteen posing at the Upstage in 2011

A few years ago, I got off a tour bus in Asbury Park, part of the Springsteen Symposium at Monmouth University, and heard local historians/journalists(Jean Mikle and Stan Goldstein) talk about Bruce, Convention Hall and the Stone Pony. Later, we stood in front of a building signed ‘Extreme,’ (back in 2001, the first floor was a shoe store) the top two floors, windows extant but covered over with concrete, like deliberately sealing a part of its past; a sarcophagus perhaps. They explained the hidden floors were the old ‘Upstage Club,’ founded by visionaries Margaret and Tom Potter, where Bruce Springsteen, Southside Johnny, Little Steven Van Zandt, Vini Lopez, Garry Tallent and Danny Federici were all regulars from 1968 to 1971 until it closed permanently. The door was padlocked and the last four decade history was explained to the group. Actually there is no history just endless abandonment and rumors that it might be torn down for condos. Back then, it was an almost all night (no alcohol) club where creative young musicians performed and explored until early morning hours. It was all for music’s sake; a brilliant concept and launching pad of expression and destiny. How synchronistic; the granddaughter of Margaret and Tom Potter, Carrie Potter Devening, published this wonderful book, ‘For Music’s Sake’ giving the history of the Upstage Club. I was haunted standing there, looking up, imagining what it must’ve been like all those years ago with incredible musical talent that has gone on to the global stage. This was my first ‘Upstage’ exposure and the early particulates of the molecular energy that birthed my love affair with the building, its history, founders and supporters.

I was smitten with sentimentality and history. On several occasions, over the years, around midnight,(like the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere) I went to Asbury Park on a meditative sojourn, stood outside the Upstage Club, looked up to a snow flurry or a starry summer sky and dreamed what was and what could be. I took pictures of the silence of the building and posted on social media. That’s when Carrie Potter Devening saw my posts, pictures and we became friends.

the first class of Asbury Angels

Tara-Jean McDonald Vitale interviewing Tony Pallagrosi for NJ Discover TV at Angels Induction.

My dream collection process was accelerated; why couldn’t Asbury Park take its place as an international music destination so that one day it would be impossible to find a parking space on Cookman Avenue in the dead of winter; the city would be frenetic and alive with the sounds of music and the Upstage Club would again become that creative purist musical mecca. If you want to make it in New York, you have to make it at the Jersey shore first. If the club was crowded, I’d even sit on the floor, stare at vintage art on the walls and dreamily listen to music until 4 am, with just a cup of espresso. The music closed my eyes to dreams. I remember Robert Kennedy’s quote, “There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why. I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?” The streams of consciousness remind me of a scene from Henry Fonda in ‘Mister Roberts.’ What’s this I hear, that so many in the Asbury Park concentric circles of commonality, are letting the concept of Margaret and Tom Potter, musical creativity and even the brick and mortar of the Upstage Club disappear.

at Angels Induction with Kevin John Allen, Carl Tinker West,Vini Lopez, Carrie Potter Devening

with singer musician Joe Petillo who played at the Upstage.

More streams. There’s a skeleton of a building, concrete pillars and a make-shift fence surrounding the massive property; a project started and quickly abandoned years ago. It’s on Ocean Avenue, a few blocks from Convention Hall. Of course, it’s an eye-sore, but for me it dramatizes a part of the Asbury Park experience. On several occasions, I conducted tours of Asbury Park and explained to foreign visitors, this was actually a commissioned sculpture depicting the future rising of Asbury Park. I can’t remember if I ever finally told them the truth. It doesn’t matter. The only truth is there are so many circles (‘interest’ groups) that want Asbury Park to finally arrive, but with so many different agendas on pastel brick roads.

It’s really not my place here to talk about the haunting history and emotional evocation of this magical place, The Upstage Club; so much has been said, written, talked about on radio or in restaurants up and down our Jersey shore. It’s the lighting of a fire, somewhere (someone) and installation of commitment to keep the concept within the city alive (or perhaps a block away?). Carrie Potter Devening has been tirelessly working for the past ten years to keep it alive; perhaps make it a museum and night club (without alcohol) again. There are efforts to raise money to buy the building, petitions to all those circles rolling around.

with singer Sharon Lasher at the last walk through

with Tara_Jean McDonald Vitale on assignment with NJ Discover TV at Upstage

In 2012, on the boardwalk in Asbury Park, was the Asbury Angels first induction ceremony. The Angels are people who’ve passed, but contributed much to the rich musical history of the city going back way before Margaret and Tom Potter, who were also inducted that September day. Music came to Asbury Park basically from the day it was born in 1871. From John Phillip Sousa and the city’s own Arthur Pryor, one of the greatest trombone players, to the clubs along Springwood Avenue on the city’s Westside where the likes of Billie Holiday (who would’ve turned 100 as I’m writing this) Count Basie, Lionel Hampton and many other jazz and blues greats performed, to the Upstage, and right up to today, music is Asbury Park.

a view of the silence of the Upstage

with Vini Lopez on stage by the famous holes.

I met Carrie at the Angels Induction Ceremony, after her book, ‘For Music’s Sake’ signing in Convention Hall Arcade and later she facilitated my first visit to the Upstage Club. The building owner had graciously opened (for a few) the top two floors, left absolutely intact since 1971, with the walls still replete with unique psychedelic art. In the men’s room, I saw scrawled on the wall, ‘Steel Mill 1971.’(Springsteen’s early band). There was a strange silence walking around; one of those hard to explain moments. I stopped in front a brightly painted psychedelic wall and posed for a picture by a photographer who took the same picture of Bruce Springsteen just a year earlier, when he stopped by for ostensibly the last time. Sentimentality crosses barriers of time, space and people.

with Carrie Potter Devening on the third floor

Steel Mill 1971 scrawled on the mens bathroom wall.

Walking around in the sounds of silence of the Upstage, I asked questions of a few who were there when it mattered. Tom Potter wanted a place with no peer pressure, where you can refine your skills and play music if you were too young to play at bars; the beauty of a non-alcoholic stage and the fact the Upstage was never a business just a club. I wonder who wrote the book of love and if all the ‘circles’ realize this. Jam sessions would seemingly never finish. Vinnie Roslin once started a song and it lasted 140 minutes. Things happened fast at the young club. Sometimes before a band could come up with a name, the band broke up. But those days are long gone. Things are different now; sound, technology, smart phones, fracking and internet.

welcome to the Upstage

Carrie Potter Devening book “For Music’s Sake” all about the Upstage

My impulse as a sentimental journalist (oxymoron?) is to find a way to save this part of Americana and musical history. ‘You Can’t Go Home Again,” by Thomas Wolfe rings in my ear like a troublesome tinnitus. Perhaps you really CAN get home despite his admonition; so I’d like to believe. That’s why I’m doing this writing. Then slowly I turned around, came full circle and an epiphany (it was that strong) slapped sense and sensibility which means inevitability and probability. I heard what one of the E-Street Band members said that The Upstage is only brick and mortar and the memories last forever; some truth and maybe not an evasion. But what’s really important is the future of Asbury Park, NJ, USA. The concept of the Upstage Club must never fade away like an old general. The spirit must endure so today’s young musicians have something to propel Asbury Park into the future and a place where they are nurtured. And the future is slowly getting there. I have that dream of seeing Asbury Park as a global musical destination. Another ingredient is a first recording studio which is now here. So to my ‘now’ epiphany, if its only brick and mortar, that’s alright ‘Mah’, we just have to keep the concept alive. The Upstage could find a different format if or when all the ‘circles’ decide to let the old tired walls come down.

the LAST jam session. and they all have wondrous smiles.

the LAST picture in Black and White reminiscent of the black and white movie ‘The Last Picture Show’

Sometimes I ask myself, whom I’m going to call now. Ghostbusters or all those ‘circles’ I know of? A few weeks ago, I received an invite to presumably the last walk through of the Upstage. Then the best; I went back to the future when Vini Lopez, Paul Whistler, Joe Petillo, Rich Gulya, Jon Sebastian Brice and Sharon Lasher took the stage with all the holes behind them, paint was peeling from ceiling and walls and they jammed for a last time like there is a tomorrow. A box of plaster pieces for souvenirs rested to stage right; we stuffed our pockets with history; a Berlin wall? I closed my eyes for a few seconds while the band played on. I dreamed again. Being there fueled my writing this piece. I’ve now said my peace. One final thought as the clock on my computer approaches 4:44 AM Sunday morning. There’s a wonderful historic building a block from Asbury Park that used to be the old Neptune High School a long time ago. Now it’s the Jersey Shore Arts Center. I wrote a feature article about them for NJ The Shore Thing last September. Yet another Calvin epiphany hit me a year ago; a new Upstage Club? And I wonder who really wrote the book of love.

Post script: Watch for acclaimed director Tom Jones’ film about The Upstage Club to be released next year.

Carrie Potter Devening book link: https://www.facebook.com/pages/For-Musics-Sake-Asbury-Parks-Upstage-Club-and-Green-Mermaid-Cafe/127404970667418?pnref=story

GoFund Me to raise money to buy the building: http://www.gofundme.com/6d1l6k

Sign the Petition at change.org to save The Upstage Club: http://chn.ge/1aGM1Zs

Comments (0)

December 17, 2012

A Holiday Blog: March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934, Laurel and Hardy): a Modern SATIRICAL Interpretation. Eyewitness to a new classic Christmas song: Introducing ‘The Big Man,’ Clarence Clemons ‘There’s Still Christmas.’ Assault Weapon Ban in New Jersey? December 18, 2012

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, Dennis Bourke, Governor Chris Christie, Jim Nuzzo, Laurel and Hardy, March of the Wooden Soldiers, Newtown, There's Still Christmas, Toyland, Vichy Water — earthood @ 11:28 pm

I’m excited to be bringing a new old Christmas (vocal)song from Clarence Clemons. But first………

I started writing this blog last Thursday, the day before the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Now I’m filled with cardiac heaviness and sorrow throughout my cellular makeup. I’m a father and human. I can’t find words. I remember Columbine and Dylan Klebold and Erik Harris; the two kids who killed and wonder why their names are remembered by me but none of the victim’s name. I wonder.

This morning I watched New York television and saw a commercial for Walgreen’s Drug Store. Their catch phrase was “Walgreen’s “at the corner of happy and healthy.” The absurdity of it all forced my smile; Walgreen’s sells cigarettes; not a healthy thing. Last Night at Rite Aid drug store picking up a small bottle of stale hydrogen peroxide, I noticed the tobacco (cigars, cigarettes) section right next to ‘Stop Smoking Products.’ More absurdity and greed; the business of America is business. Life on earth is absurd. One in seventeen Americans suffer from mental illness.

My reputation as a New Jersey journalist grows daily; not absurd. I’ve plunged into the world of Jersey music, art, and environmental causes. Someone called me this morning and for a few moments, I felt like Bob Woodward or Carl Bernstein from ‘deep throat’ and Watergate/Washington Post journalism fame. That voice on the phone (no auditory recognition and heavy breathing) told me Governor Christie was thinking about enacting a New Jersey State ban on assault weapons. As I was listening, I thought a brilliant timely political (he’s running for re-election next year and is eyeing 2016 and Pennsylvania Avenue) move that might vault him to even more national prominence and broad-based respect for being tough in tough times with tough decisions in light of Newtown, Connecticut. States can ban assault weapons. I pondered the world and made a few phone calls. I’m a middle of the road kind of guy since 1969 (no political party affiliation); this paragraph is now over because my only concern (not politics or issues) is the universe and our planet’s sustainability; the really big picture.

Now to the holidays. I love this frenetic wonderful spiritual time of year. The depths of my affection for the holiday season are hard to describe but I’ll take a shot. In my first novel published three years ago, ‘Vichy Water,’ I wrote about a New Jersey man (I’m NOT revealing any plot) who found the need to journey to a remote northern Montana town and a small church on Christmas Eve and go to Midnight Mass; a purely ecumenical thing to do for abundant reasons. Funny thing; I share the same notion as my novel character; like a Hemingway story and I’m not an ambulance driver. Accomplishing this, for me, is the end of a long winding road journey and happy occasion. Complicated but I love the holidays and peace on earth.

Now for some light fun; I’ve been watching the March of the Wooden Soldiers with Laurel and Hardy (made in 1934) for the last 60 years in a row (mostly on WPIX channel 11 in New York). My father turned me on to the movie which aired on Thanksgiving morning when I was seven. Being a person of tradition and sentiment, I’ve watched it every year since 1952; don’t think I ever missed a showing. My watching this Christmas seasonal movie, even passing on Macy’s parade, bespeaks my sense of loyalty, tradition and love of Toyland, fantasy, comedy and simplicity in living with vestiges of Mother Goose. I love the architectural warmth of the old woman’s shoe who in the movie was Bo Beep’s mother. I did ponder for a brief moment that everyone who was in the movie is gone now; so are Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Lucille Ball and Louis Armstrong.

from March of the Wooden Soldiers. The first movie robot?

Laurel and Hardy opening scene of movie in bed together.

After 60 viewings, I had an epiphany on this Thanksgiving Day as I watched the movie with my 26 year old son. I forgot to mention that when my son was seven, I inculcated into him the need to watch this movie with me until the end of time. And he still does which means time is still hanging around and forget the Mayan calendar. The epiphany, as I pedaled on the exercise bike and watched the movie with my son, was that it’s incredibly and hauntingly contemporary to today’s complicated world. So here goes interpretation.

In the opening scene, Laurel and Hardy (Stannie Dum and Ollie Dee in the movie) are in bed together, sleeping. I thought immediately that this was Hollywood’s (1934) first example of domestic partners even as the Supreme Court takes on same sex marriage soon. They’re sleeping so close together (not in separate beds like Bert and Ernie) that a small white feather keeps floating between the two of them as they exhale. I think it was the same white feather that messed with Forest Gump at the end of the movie.

Tom Tom and Bo Peep. an item in mother goose.

old man Barnaby putting the moves on Bo Beep

Then soon we see Mr. Barnaby (a dirty old nasty bad man) chasing after young barely teenage BoPeep in an early expose of improper sexual advances; an old man and a much too young girl. I was horrified. And the laws of Toyland were not stringent enough to prevent this kind of behavior.

A little later, Tom-Tom, the piper, is looking for Bo Peep. They’ve got a romantic thing going; a perfect Mother Goose couple. Of course Bo Peep loses one of her sheep and Tom Tom helps her look. Then he gets amorous, serenades her, and she coyly resists the advances. Coincidentally they are standing by an old foot stockade and in a move reminiscent of ‘Fifty Shades of Grey,’ he does the old bondage technique, secures her feet and keeps her immobile until she relents and kisses (and who knows what else) Tom Tom.

The laws of Toyland with respect to punishment were rather strict in some areas. Sometimes it seems we’re headed down similar roads; perhaps the movie was futuristic in legal aspects.

hanging with the intellectual cool cat

the eventual same sex marriage in barnaby hall in 1934

If you are convicted of burglary in Toyland, you get dunked and banished to bogeyland for ever; a tough love punishment and borderline capital; because you’re not coming back alive with all the bogeyman there. Then I thought about equal justice initiative and the notion that it’s better to be rich and guilty than poor and innocent in America and Toyland.

I’ve been a student of futurism, Dr. Michio Kaku (‘Physics of the Future’) and have been reading about the advances in robotics especially in Japan and what’s coming in the mid-future. But the ‘March of the Wooden Soldiers’ has an army of six-foot robots who can almost think and actively defend Toyland from hostile invaders (bogeymen). Press of a button and they knew exactly what to do. When they rescued small children, it seems the Wooden Soldiers even displayed emotion and comforted the scared children. A hundred years ahead of its time. Emotions in robots are coming end of century.

Getting back to the notion of same –sex marriage; Stan and Ollie conspire to steal the mortgage for the little old lady’s shoe from Mr. Barnaby and then get caught, convicted and go through a public dunking before banishment to bogeyland. Bo Peep comes to the rescue and agrees to marry Mr. Barnaby if he consents to drop the charges. At the wedding ceremony in Barnaby Hall, Bo Beep is dressed in wedding gown and veil; the ceremony concludes. Ollie gets the mortgage and Barnaby goes to kiss the bride. It’s not Bo Peep but Laurel (Stannie Dum) dressed up. When Stannie wants to leave, Ollie says “You can’t, you’re married to Mr. Barnaby now.” Indeed same sex marriage in 1934.

I marvel at the advanced state of animal rights in the movie. If you’re convicted of pig-napping you’re banished to bogeyland forever. This kind of potent animal protection laws from 1934 Toyland is so needed today to stop poachers who kill elephants, tigers and apes without regard.

There is also strong evidence of feminism; When Tom Tom is framed and banished to bogeyland for pignapping, Bo Peep takes it upon herself to brave the alligator infested waters surrounding Toyland and Bogeyland and singlehandedly rescues her man, Tom Tom.

Finally there’s a need to involve DYFS in this discussion. Who leaves their baby rocking in a tree in a car seat in Toyland? I’ve already reminded my son that next year when we flip the Mayan calendar, he’ll be watching March of the Wooden Soldiers with me. I’ll be pedaling on the exercise bike; no iPhones allowed while viewing.

And now a great Holiday story about an amazing new old Christmas classic song:

Eyewitness to a new classic Christmas song: Introducing ‘The Big Man,’ Clarence Clemons ‘There’s Still Christmas.’

A long time ago in another state, in another city (which has alternate side of the street parking), I was aimlessly flicking television channels with an antiquated remote when I caught the black and white beginning of a movie that I’d never seen, “It’s A Wonderful Life.” It was early autumn. Within a few minutes, I was drawn into the mystique and charm of this movie; throw an angel into storyline and I’m hooked for the long haul. I loved the movie’s message; about friends, family and dreams. The movie became a Christmas classic but not for many years after it was made in 1946. It was actually released in the summer that year and bombed at the box office.

its a wonderful life great scene near the end.

its a wonderful life. when george bailey says, “atta boy Clarence”

When I finished watching the movie, I wondered why this wasn’t a classic with its timeless message of Christmas spirit, incredible cast and storytelling. Over the next few years, Ronald Reagan became President and the movie began surfacing on television during the holiday season with uncanny frequency. I said to myself, “I knew it would find itself holiday time;” and did it ever. Back in the Garden State, in the early eighties, a few weeks before Christmas on a Saturday afternoon, I was flicking channels again with a more modern remote and stumbled upon “It’s A Wonderful Life” on six different channels at the same time, staggered so that you could see the ending if you were so moved; six times. “Atta boy Clarence,” Jimmy Stewart (George Bailey) says near the end; witness to the multi decade birth of a Christmas classic movie. Television stations today conspire to only do one showing per season; but it’s still a certifiable classic. Segue to the title of this article, ‘Eyewitness to a new classic Christmas song.’ By the way, I find it particularly haunting in my microcosmic synchronistic world that the angel in this movie is a Clarence, and I’m writing about Clarence Clemons. Hmmm!!I told the story of the movie because in our crazy mixed-up, digital, smart-phone, fast food world, we’re likely to be witnessing the birth of yet another classic; this time an incredible Christmas song with such a moving emotional voice, the late ‘Big Man,’ Clarence Clemons. If you want to get in the mood before reading on, here’s the You Tube link to ‘There’s Still Christmas.’ Go listen and come back here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NZ__QNFP5U&playnext=1&list=PLB17BACDC89FDA3CD&feature=results_video

I love angels and synchronicity. Six weeks ago, I came to know Jim Nuzzo and Dennis Bourke who created this song with Clarence Clemons back in 1981. I’m a story teller so here goes.

a powerful memory of Clarence Clemons

Back in 1981, Stevie Betts (lyricist) and Dennis Bourke (melody) wrote this song, ‘There’s Still Christmas’ and teamed up with Jim Nuzzo (arranger, producer) and got manager Matty Breuer (assistant tour manager for Springsteen back then) to approach Clarence Clemons. They all met at Clarence’s Sea Bright, New Jersey home, had some wine and presented the words of the song to the ‘Big Man.’ Being on hiatus from touring with Springsteen, Clarence wanted to do it. He loved the message of the song; when things look down, there’s still Christmas; simple yet poignant. And Clarence’s rich baritone voice that is silenced now; propels this to classic status. At the first recording session in October 1981, Clarence arrived wearing a cowboy hat. The next day he was wearing a Santa Claus hat and red vest exposing a chubby belly. He had Christmas lights put on the music stand; he was so in the mood to do this song. They rehearsed the song at ‘Big Man’s West’ in Red Bank; Clarence’s club. Jim and Dennis both told me about getting chills being in the same room with him when he performed. “He was a gentle down to earth guy,” Jim said. To relax during the recording sessions, they played video games. To prepare for record company submission, Clarence recorded the other side on solo sax another Christmas classic “The Christmas Song.” The record company never picked up the song so it’s been sleeping all these years waiting for classic beams of particulate historic energy. Last year the song was released but like the movie, so few of us knew it existed. I listened and was blown away; his voice and persona holds me in a suspended state; like I’ve known him all these years; like it’s a special legacy to all of us to have him back in our lives at Christmas this year.

Bruce and Clarence. from Born to Run. one of my favorite pixs of them and its in black and white.

But there’ more to the legacy of Clarence Clemons and this song; Jim Nuzzo and Dennis Bourke (A Viet Nam vet) have affiliated with this amazing charity ‘Give an Hour’ http://www.giveanhour.org/Home.aspx a non-profit organization providing free mental health services to US Military personnel and their families affected by current conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan.

All of which means as we move to make this wonderful song a Christmas mainstay and classic, proceeds from the sale of this song on I -Tunes, CD Baby will help our military. Imagine, after all these years; this song comes to us from Clarence at this holiday time of year; part of his enduring legacy.

Here’s some links to this wonderful life song/info:

http://www.oceangaterecords.com/

A percentage of cd sales from “There’s Still Christmas” by the legendary Clarence Clemons will be donated to Give an Hour, a non-profit organization that provides free mental health services to military personnel, their loved ones and hometown communities affected by conflicts abroad.

Please open up your hearts, honor Clarence and support our veterans by purchasing your copy for this holiday season.

Available for purchase on iTunes, CD Baby, Amazon, and Backstreets.com http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/theres-still-christmas-single/id474038459?uo=4http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/clarenceclemons

You can also find ‘There’s Still Christmas’ on Facebook.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Theres-Still-Christmas-Clarence-Clemons/286246628066619?fref=ts

Bottom line. Please go listen and fall in love with the song. Purchase it. Sit by the fire place with a glass of wine or egg nog. Enjoy the Happy Holidays. Listen to his wondrous voice.

Thanks again to Jim Nuzzo and Dennis Bourke for their passion and time.

And Clarence Clemons.

HAPPY MERRY HEALTHY HOLIDAYS!!!!!

Calvin Schwartz

Comments (1)

September 26, 2012

Asbury Angels Induction Ceremony: Asbury Park NJ Sunday 9/23. A New Film: ‘Just Around the Corner: The Story of Bob Benjamin’ screened at Bruce Springsteen Symposium at Monmouth University.September 26, 2012

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Asbury Angels, Asbury Park, Bruce Springsteen, Calvin Schwartz, Carrie Potter Devening, Clarence Clemons, Danny Federici, Kevin John Allen, Marc Ribler, Margaret and Tom Potter, Stone Pony, Tara-Jean Vitale, Tony Pallagrosi, Vini Lopez — earthood @ 12:53 pm

THE ASBURY ANGELS

My blog. My blog. My kingdom to find more time like the old days (2 years ago) when I blogged once a week or so. Life is beautiful and accelerating beyond comprehension. Sometimes I think that my writing and music journalistic pursuits are leading me to a non-snow covered mountaintop in Tibet where I’ll be able to see forever but it has to be a clear day. It’s a clear day right now in central Jersey. So I’ll get there and get back to my blog, my love, and my forest through trees and a babbling brook of streams of consciousness; in time. Meantime, I went to this most amazing ceremony in Asbury Park this past Sunday honoring the Asbury Angels, those who have passed on but have given their molecular energies and spirit to the phenomenon of Asbury Park music. Here’s some of what I took away. But also at the end of this Asbury Angels piece is a very unique review of a new film, ‘Just Around the Corner: The Story of Bob Benjamin.’ Why unique review? It’s just one word. “Riveting.”

Jackie Pappas from Asbury Park Chamber of Commerce with introduction to ceremony. not a cloud in the sky

part of the crowding of the boardwalk for the ceremony.

Twenty minutes before the Asbury Angels ceremony. Shooting down Asbury Avenue for the 78^th time this year; that’s an approximation but probably close. I’ve developed a love affair to remember with Asbury Park and find myself there three or four times a week; hey, I’m a music, art, environmental and evolving cerebral journalist and Asbury has morphed into a renaissance/ re-birth. I’ve been saying for some time now in my writings that part of this dynamic is the celestial descending of particulates of molecular energy from the living and past musical history of this town; I’m saying that the world knows about Springsteen, Southside Johnny, Vini Lopez, and the vast array of current performers whose roots came from Asbury.

Asbury Angels Founder Tony Pallagrosi introducing inductees/bios.

Yes, for me this energy is absolutely palpable. Last summer I remember walking down Cookman Avenue and looking across the street at several houses. One had a pastel green back porch; a young teenage boy was playing a guitar and gyrating. I was certain he was pretending /dreaming ‘Springsteen.’ I thought to myself; it’s the sprinkled particle energy of the living legends. I also thought while heading down Asbury Avenue, adhering to the speed limit, passed an Italian restaurant and beautiful red brick church, that I was heading to an emotional poignant ceremony honoring particulate energy of Asbury music history of those who have passed on.

cutting the ribbon. hugely moving ceremony to unveil Angels.

the plaque unveiled honoring Clarence Clemons

Iconic Tony Pallagrosi, so deeply involved in the musical and philanthropic composition of Asbury Park founded the Asbury Angels. “The mission of the Asbury Angels is to honor and memorialize the lives and history of members of the Asbury Park musical community, including but not limited to, musicians, tech support persons, DJs, journalists, club owners, record company personnel, managers and promoters.”

Tara-Jean Vitale(editor, producer at NJ Discover) interviewing Tony Pallagrosi

writer Calvin with Kevin John Allen(Lonely Teardrops Band) & Marc Ribler (& Friends ROCK tuesday nights at McCloones Boardwalk)

NJ Discover’s team, Tara-Jean Vitale (editor, producer) and I quickly slammed car doors in front of the Stone Pony, and joined the hundreds assembling on the boardwalk for the induction of the 2012 class (first one) of the Asbury Angels. Jackie Pappas from the Asbury Park Chamber of Commerce introduced Tony Pallagrosi who read brief biographies of the inductees. Families and friends applauded each reading; the ocean glistened in the background; the sky was perfectly blue and the weather Gods cooperated. The night before, Pallagrossi hinted, Springsteen’s concert at Met Life stadium was rain delayed until 10:30pm.

writer Calvin with Kevin John Allen, Carl Tinker West (Bruce Springsteen’s 1st manager) Vini Lopez(with leg up) and Carrie Potter Devening (author of a amazing book “For Music’s Sake Asbury Park’s Upstage Club & Green Mermaid Cafe: The Untold Stories”) after a very poignant Asbury Angels Induction Ceremony on the boardwalk at Asbury on sunday. this day was powerful stuff

I listened to every word of each bio. These were legends and icons that did so much for Asbury music. I kept thinking in the midst of the throngs consuming the whole width of the boardwalk, that someday these Angels would’ve contributed to making Asbury Park one of the world’s music destinations. I want to think everyone thought like me. After all, look at the depth, range and impact of these Angels. Its two days later as I write this. I’m still intestinally queasy. I was so moved being there.

As each name was read, a plaque on a boardwalk bench was unveiled with the bio of the Angel. Huge scissors were summoned to cut the yellow ribbon to share the memorial for the ages. It was Asbury Park’s walk of fame. The 2012 Asbury Angels are: Arthur Willard Pryor, Bobby Alfano, Larry ‘Bozo’ Blasco, Bill Chinnock, Clarence Clemons, Danny Federici, John Luraschi, Joe Arthur Major, Arthur Morris, Tom and Margaret Potter, and Moe Septee. When the ceremony was over, I watched people hugging and shaking hands, photographers capturing plaques, old friends seeing one another after decades, smiles and bittersweet teary eyes; a panoply of emotions. I did my joyous deep inhalation/exhalation. “Hey Mah, look where I am,” and thought ten thousand people should’ve been here to experience this. (Or more)

You can find the biographies and information on the Asbury Angels here:

http://asburyangels.com/default/index/

INTRODUCING THE FILM “JUST AROUND THE CORNER” The Story of Bob Benjamin.

A POWERFUL RECOMMENDATION (I rarely do this) http://www.amazon.com/Just-Around-Corner-Bob-Benjamin/dp/B008B49FHG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1348600934&sr=8-2&keywords=just+around+the+corner+dvd

On a Thursday(first day of 4) night, two weeks ago I attended, ‘Glory Days, A Bruce Springsteen Symposium’ at Monmouth University. It was an academic, musical and geographical adventure into the world of Bruce Springsteen. On that first night in Wilson Hall at Monmouth University there were two special events as part of the symposium; a ‘Songwriters by the Sea’ concert with gifted singers, Joe Rapolla and Joe D’Urso; in a room of indescribable ambiance so their acoustical music lifted me a few thousand miles away. That’s what this ‘Songwriters by the Sea’ series does to me every time. The concert was preceded by a special screening of the new film, ‘Just Around the Corner: The Story of Bob Benjamin.’ Sometimes I’m less of a reviewer or journalist but a conduit of feeling emotions and expressing my environment when doing so. Thus an observation about the viewing audience and me: it was about as silent and intense absorbing/viewing a film as I’ve ever seen. A human interest and story of courage. So my only one word review so to speak, “riveting.” Probably means if you follow my one word lead; pick up a copy at Amazon and other places.

Pix: Bob Benjamin, Joe D’Urso, Joe Amodei at Q/A. at the screening at Monmouth University

: .

Comments (1)

April 26, 2012

My 7 Hours in a Mammography Office. Bruce Springsteen Madison Square Garden Concert: A Cerebral Review. Modern N.J. Suburbia and the Amazon River. Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) and Me. Bad American Companies. April 26, 2012

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Amazon River, Bruce Springsteen, Calvin Schwartz, Madison Square Garden, Mammography, MOMA, The Graduate — earthood @ 12:26 pm

my new wonderful home

Before my much anticipated Springsteen review; Immersion into Monmouth County music and art has caused a slippage into a time warp; I haven’t blogged in two weeks. Need to address that. Evolution is a wonderful world. No Darwin stuff here. Just a personal journey from starting blogging two years ago and of course, a novelist to a journalist in July, a writer and producer for both NJ Discover TV and HooplaHa in November.

a view from the train heading into Springsteen concert in NYC. There is beauty in a NJ smokestack.

A nor’easter hit New Jersey a few days ago. We needed the rain to avoid drought and suburban folks not being able to water their lawns on both even and odd days. I stopped watering my lawn 15 years ago and washing my car 20 years ago. Water everywhere, but not an endless supply of drops left. Down the salmon and even yellow colored brick roads, water will replace oil as the global commodity.

last scene from 'The Graduate' first scene was "plastics"

talking about red beetles being used to color starbucks strawberry frappes. small world.. this work art is from SICA Gallery in Asbury Park Arts NIght last sat. night.

For those of you who remember the movie, ‘The Graduate;’ the opening scene when one of Benjamin Braddock’s (Dustin Hoffman) parent’s friend whispers just one word to Ben, “Plastics.” I’m whispering here on my blog, “Water.” Perhaps, I can dig a well here in central Jersey, purify and bottle water in plastic made out of plants and call it ‘Jersey Shore Water’ and ship it over to China which will have a huge imported water market one day (My personal theory; when that happens, the USA wipes out its debt). I need to call my son in Williamsburg, Brooklyn where only under-30 year olds live and whisper to him, “Water in plastic.”

a view inside MOMA almost an art form in itself.

caught my eye. moma

Suburbia is a curious place. Not a prolific amount of adventurers here. I live on a corner house which parallels a main road with 40 mile/hour speed limit. Three houses in a row across that great street divide look out on my mostly weedy and yellow lawn. I don’t know any of the people in those houses and it’s been 20 years that we’ve been suburban neighbors. I said to my wife on Saturday as we were heading to Brooklyn and saw the middle house’s car pull out of the driveway, “I don’t know who they are. I wonder why. I guess 187 feet away is an insurmountable distance and it’s been two decades.” Silence filled the car. Intense thought does that. I was trying to understand how people 187 feet apart for 20 years have no clue who each other are. Not that there were ever any ‘We Like Ike’ or ‘Jimmy Carter’ political signs on our lawns. Maybe they’ve been put off with my yellow grass while they’re green. Then my wife introspected. ‘It’s another world over there, across the street.” Imagination played with my retina. I saw a sign, ‘Welcome to the Amazon River.’ Sure enough; it was a river, not black asphalt which separated us all these years. And on careful inspection, I saw those nasty piranha fish and was horrified yet redeemed in a convoluted way. Now I know why I never crossed over the river. Piranhas are nasty fish with a voracious appetite; so it’s been suburban self-preservation all these years. Absurd, isn’t it?

a step into abstract art at moma

actually inside this painting. that's me in the white sweater taking a pix of the painting.

So what’s this I hear about Wal-Mart bribing officials in Mexican towns to get quicker permits to build more stores? I don’t have a running love affair with American companies/corporations. In my novel, ‘Vichy Water,’ I postulated that ‘some’ American companies are collectively responsible for the deaths of more people than the Germans in World War II. Would that be 50 million lives? Easy to calculate; start with cigarettes (Just this morning I saw a commercial on NBC Today Show. “Smoking kills 25,000 people every year in New York State”), coal (soot) dust, food companies that love salt, car and drug companies that don’t recall, the power company in California that used poisonous hexavalent chromium (thanks Erin Brockovich), insurance companies who reject treatments, purveyors of trans-fat, plastics (that word again) that land in land-fills and decompose into poisonous phthalates and so on forever.

nuzzling up to a sculpture of pres Johnson with 3 birds in his hand. somebody in new jersey messaged me to stand up straight.

actually i am eye to eye with this.

Back to Wal-Mart. So there are 2100 Wal-Mart stores in Mexico and the word on the street; a lot of stores quickly; perhaps local town officials were allegedly (I love using this word) bribed by Wal-Mart, spending millions in bribes to get permits from local Mexican officials to build fast and tighten noose on competition. There are stringent American laws prohibiting bribing foreign officials punishable by heavy fines (duh) AND stiff prison sentences for company executives. Wal-Mart is concerned and looking into it. Once a decade or so I offer up one of my kidneys in a sure bet: no Wal-Mart official will ever go directly to jail; just like the ‘Monopoly’ game. Finally, Starbucks is NOT going to use red beetles/insects to color some of their strawberry frappes etc. instead using a lycopene (from tomatoes) derivative. Hey, lycopene is healthy stuff; a wonderful anti-oxidant; why not used all the time?

in the sculpture garden at moma. now i'm ready for a Springsteen concert

Two weeks ago my son and I went to the Bruce Springsteen concert in Madison Square Garden. To prepare cerebrally and emotionally, I got into the city eight hours before the concert and wandered, roamed and absorbed the world of the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) to innervate neural ganglionic connections in my mind. And it worked. I was naturally and visually elevated, feeling the air beneath my wings and souls (soles) of my feet. I wonder so many things these days. One wonderment; how can a sedentary sofa compare to MOMA, Manhattan and fruit and pretzel stands on city sidewalks. Rather than more words at this juncture, MOMA and me pixs. My review of the Springsteen concert, more cerebral musings, was picked up by Facebook’s ‘Bruce Springsteen News’ because, like the ending of the Mickey Mouse Club song, they “liked it.” Review at end of blog.

Finally, nearly two years ago I convinced my wife to get a mammogram. Remember I’m the guy who blogs about living to 150 years all the time; she’s not as diligent with health issues. The deal was that I accompany her to the office for the exam. I went for the deal. And I also wound up spending nearly 6 hours 44 minutes sitting in gender solitude that day. What I experienced that day was powerful emotionally, more so than even walking around MOMA or going to a Springsteen concert and sitting on the floor. Emoting about the mammography office that day in August 2010, I started my blog that night and posted it. Thing is; my blog was young back then so not many folks may’ve seen it. Blog times have changed; 200,000 yearly visitors and growing. I think it needs reposting now; stylistically it became part of my stream of consciousness. And here’s that blog from August 2010 (it’s all archived. Even the follow-up blog to that)

BLOG:

suburban poetry: only Male in a special Mammography office. august 23, 2010

Calvin Schwartz

an august thursday last week. 10:30 am. i need to accompany and support. first sight. a painting of a woman, large prominent features, wings, surreal, tall as me.

two women assistants looked at me looking. one pointed with a long finger and i imagined, some kind of instrument used for cutting dense overgrowth in a jungle far away from central jersey. she pointed to a waiting, waiting room of varying comfort level of chairs, none soft and cushiony. a lonely box of kleenex on table near a book, ‘art of survival’, binder broken, pages ready to evacuate. anatomical paintings on wall; two half globes, america and australia. two lockets with small pictures of women. two half globes of a green mossy substance, small dinosaurs and dragons walking precariously on side. a painting of a planter covering a wide chest expanse, a vine escaping. reminded me of a bean stalk. i was jack for sure. looking around, wondering, imagining, asking myself questions. what if? why am i the only testosterone person here?(just the word i thought of too) music piped in through speaker directly over my head (what used to be my soft spot). my day of crossing canal coincidentally close. not just music, no elvis. no rap. no dusty springfield. no iris dement. no voices. lots of piano. 5 hours of this music. not music but a dirge dragging on. i was in the land of funereal thoughts. couldn’t help it. outside the window to my left, a courtyard separating a one story building with all glass walls and no people about. one lone tree notably branch neutered and not moving or blowing in the wind. i wondered if the operation made it lethargic. the sky was uncannily blue. not a cirrus or cumulous cloud for 5 hours. not one passing by to change view. why was i the only male here? the colors all around were beige, green and white. chairs were too. i was feeling ominous, beige and white and sickly.

a woman walked in with a clipboard. filled out a form. i was busy reading a primer on hemingway, the particular page about living life, experiencing and inventing. i was where i never dreamt to be. no eye contact with the woman. i think it was mutual, perhaps for me out of privacy respect. another woman walked in, dropped belongings and paced back and forth endlessly. i understood. i felt. that’s it. i started feeling things like never before. was i invading a private world. i still waited for gender company which never came. why was i the only male? i walked outside office looking for gender company. even my gender’s washroom, no gender company. the silence of a washroom, water splashing. strange but i was noticing things i never noticed. something was happening. surreal air in the conditioning system.

back to waiting room. even a crying baby would’ve worked to break an eerie silence. more women and clipboards. i started noticing faces. a sadness. a fear. a silence. one woman sat facing me. i tried to bury myself in book. there’s only so much clinical hemingway to absorb in an hour. an assistant walked in and handed that woman a large folder of x-rays or something. a few muffled words. a face left with no emotion. i saw fear. i wasn’t there. i was silent but felt i was changing. i think i was resolving to notice things in my world for the rest of my time in it. i couldn’t help it. i was changing. i hoped for gender company. none would ever come. another woman and a clipboard. another what if for me and then another one. hours passed. i didn’t even want one of the butter cookies on a tray in kitchenette(what a strange word, kitchenette). i wanted no water. i wanted no movement. i just noticed a painting was not perfectly level and the neutered tree which i realized was probably my gender was still not moving. maybe there was no wind. a mighty wind would win branch movement. i wondered about this special kind of place and a special kind of fear and it’s gender tender specialty. the dirge music annoyed but i knew why it was there. i noticed i’d been there a long time. patients have come and gone and i still sit, hemingway now resting near the lonely kleenex box. if i wrote tissue box would readers know? why am i the only male here? why is there such loneliness here? why am i so lonely? why am i still here? why hasn’t one of the pointing fingers come in to reassure and point me out?

finally an assistant. “just coming out now” i noticed her face, then a whisper, “we have to come back for a biopsy at 2:45pm” we drove around then some lettuce with balsamic to masticate, kills time. back in waiting room. more women no men. more clipboards. more fear. more noticing details. i was never so quiet for so many hours. a few more hours. more, what if? i wondered about erectile dysfunction and if that gets more money for research than where i am. there are no words as hard as i try to describe my evolution and revolution. i’ll notice and feel and be a better human. promise to myself.

lasting thoughts: a day without male company. a day of fear, unknown, feeling, noticing and thinking about words. two hours ago on this day of my birth, writing words, praying and communing. then a simple phone call that things are alright. happy birthday calvin. Best Gifts are simple life things. i noticed that.

NOW The BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN Madison Square Garden Concert REVIEW from

“Bruce Springsteen News’ on Facebook:

A review from Madison Square Garden April 9, 2012 by BSN’s own reporter @ Calvin Schwartz.

by Bruce Springsteen News on Wednesday, April 11, 2012 at 1:43pm ·

Springsteen Concert: Madison Square Garden, April 9, 2012: Electric Sociology Defined.

Calvin Schwartz, writer NJ Discover TV http://www.njdiscover.com/

Email: calvinbarryschwartz@gmail.com

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

http://vichywater.net/blog (a frequent blogger about Asbury Park, Jersey Shore and Springsteen geography)

a city sidewalk scene on the way to Springsteen concert

prodigal son 84 minutes before concert in MSG. note top right. the woman knitting to kill some time.

I’m a writer, blogger, reporter and novelist from central Jersey (two miles from Freehold), with leanings towards the cerebral side of life. I was asked to share a few thoughts on Monday night’s Bruce Springsteen concert. I’m not a music critic and I don’t ever want to be, but I love everything about Springsteen from the molecular point of view; as I search to describe myself. Molecular means that I’ve felt for the last several years, a fine particulate of Springsteen dust settling down on me. Dust you ask? Remember the old movie ‘Incredible Shrinking Man’ from 1957, when sparkly dust descends on this man in a boat and causes him to shrink into eternity. For me, in a positive way, this observed Springsteen magic has elevated (opposite of shrink) me; heightening an awareness for my central Jersey surroundings and made me a better writer. And as I descend on the places where Bruce is felt, like Asbury Park, I’ve noticed his magical dust is part of almost everyone. He is molecular; people feel him, his energy (he can’t be 62), caring and words. He lifts and elevates his home grown geography, meaning us here in Jersey and rock fans globally.

74 minutes before Springsteen concert. perhaps a new signature pix.

the AV desk. note the 2 Springsteen musical catalog books on right table.

Yesterday I had the need to be in New York, within two miles of Madison Square Garden, about 8 hours before the concert; I’d like to think for absorption of molecular incidentals, so I strolled semi-aimlessly around MOMA(Museum of Modern Art), all the time in high anticipation mode that soon I’d be on the floor of the Garden for Bruce Springsteen. My prodigal son and I woofed down a salad with extra string beans and jalapenos, hooked-up with son’s college friends for a beer, then I wandered inside the Garden about an hour before doors open. Being on the floor, I had the opportunity to roam around close to AV computers, where I caught sight of two Springsteen musical catalog books. Those books are probably needed by computer show people; you never know when Bruce decides to add a song, like he did with ‘Rosalita’ at the finale, even catching Steve van Zandt by surprise as I surmise.

27 minutes before Springsteen concert. prodigal son pondering elation.

Tribute to Clarence Clemons on the big screen

Why do I love Springsteen concerts? My need for first hand observations of “amazing electric sociology;” a term I conjured introspectively trying to come up with right words; the old ‘nail it’ philosophy. Watching meticulously as the Garden slowly filled with cravers of rock, you could sense everyone was waiting to have unbridled fun, standing, gyrating, singing, throwing digits and fingers into Springsteen molecularly charged air. I guess saying ‘palpable’ works, but there’s so much more involved. I think for first timers, and even for the regulars (I bumped into a Rutgers friend afterwards at Penn Station. It was his 102nd concert), this would be a life experience; they always are; like a meta-morphed cool cat with multiple lives; every time you go to a Springsteen concert, they’re never the same especially if you dig electric sociology.

one of the funnier cultural pixs: note utilization of cell phone cameras. kind of reminds me of scene from movie 'Starting Over" with Burt Reynolds and Jill Clayburgh. "Does any body have a valium?"

Springsteen on Stage

“New York, New York,” appropriately filled the Garden, the band arrived and Springsteen who is molecularly thoroughly Jersey, comments on the New York Giants winning but playing all home games in Jersey and perhaps renaming the Empire State Building to Jersey State but leaving it where it is. ‘Badlands’ blasted the audience into permanent stand upright positions. Bruce magically becomes part audience, turning, moving close to loyalists, even those sitting behind. He forgets no fan because it’s genuine love; electric sociology. That’s essential Bruce; in the audience chugging two beers, lying down and being elevated, picking a young boy from the audience to sing and slide across the stage and a young girl to dance in ‘Dancing in the Dark’ reminiscent of Courtney. Personally, I could listen to him sing ‘Jack of All Trades’ (me?) from ‘Wrecking Ball’ all night long like I’m doing now, inspiring my writing.

The concert went on all night long; electric sociology. Springsteen loves his audience; they love him back. To my left this 60 something man stood for three hours; moving, smiling, laughing, contorting, throwing hands into the air, loving every moment; that’s a Springsteen concert. Jake Clemons, Clarence’s nephew filled while the audience pulled; you could feel it; electric sociology. I closed my eyes a few times and listened to Jake. At the finale, the tribute to Clarence slowed my respiration; the love on the big screen evident while watching Bruce watch. Ah, the finale. Like an old coffee commercial for me, “Heavenly.” ‘Born to Run’ and Dancing in the Dark’ with a ‘10th Avenue Freeze Out.’ I watched carefully for as many signs of electric sociology; the love all around between Springsteen, the Band (they’re ALL amazing) and the audience. I thought about being in college for a moment; how what I’ve seen should be required reading or viewing for sociology, American history, European literature (Bruce is universal). No one left a seat to be first on a subway; electrically sociologically glued to our seats near where we stood all night. With my son, memories forever and bonding beyond comprehension. That’s my wrap on a typical molecularly Springsteen concert.

NOW HERE THIS: a bit of an advertisement. I don’t do those very much here. BUT there’s a very unusual upbeat funny precious 2 minute video involving 102 year old Emily Cook who talks about the life briefly and then invites me back to her room. Not to be missed especially the last 23 seconds. PLEASE check it out and share it.

http://www.hooplaha.com/getting-better-all-the-time/

HooplaHa Videos and Article LINKS to Check Out. Very Interesting!!!!

Judy Feinstein: Female Pilot:

Judy Feinstein pilot: http://www.hooplaha.com/no-rearview-mirror/

Fatherhood:

http://www.hooplaha.com/fatherhood/

Ida Gonzalez: A Mother’s Journey to Light:

http://www.hooplaha.com/a-mothers-journey-to-light/

Common Sense Approach to Common Sense:

http://www.hooplaha.com/common-sense-approach-to-common-sense/

Flexitarianism:

http://www.hooplaha.com/flexitarianism/

Meryl Streep and Me:

http://www.hooplaha.com/meryl-streep-and-me/

A Real College Pep Band Video (yes 85 seconds):

http://www.hooplaha.com/rutgers-rah-a-college-pep-band/

Also a very worthwhile cause to read up on:

Butterfly Circle of Friends. http://www.butterflycircleoffriends.org

MY CONTACT INFORMATION

website: http://vichywater.net

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

Email: earthood@gmail.com

book trailer. hey its 65 seconds long

Vichy Water Book Trailer

IMPORTANT LINK

If on Facebook check out this NJ Discover site:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000125711074

OR www.njdiscover.com

LINKS TO VIDEOS. Please Watch.

1. ZOMBIE WALK October 22, 2011

Zombie Walk Asbury Park

2. VETERANS DAY NJ VIETNAM MEMORIAL

Nov 11, 2011

Veterans Day at NJ Vietnam War Memorial

3. RANDALL HAYWOOD & VICTOR JONES JAZZ CONCERT

Nov 19, 2011

Randall Haywood and Victor Jones Interview from Chico’s House of Jazz Asbury Park

FINALLY FROM LINDA CHORNEY GRAMMY NOMINEE:

Comments (2)

Vichy Water – Author's Blog Just another WordPress weblog