Edmunds High School Class of 1944 reunion

Some held canes, one or two, walkers, and many weren't there at all -- but for a few short hours on Friday, the Edmunds High School class of 1944 was 17 again, as the Sumter City Centre, decorated in school colors of purple and white, filled shortly after noon for the class' 65th reunion.
Tears and laughter were in abundance, but mostly there were smiles and big hugs all around. In his invocation, the Rev. A.B. Parsons, a class of '44 member himself, noted “we are overcome with emotions and memories,” and reminded his classmates, “Our time on earth doesn't last forever.”
There were copies of a rather extensive list of deceased class members, but the list of those still living was longer.
Reminiscences, a display of materials from their school years, as well as pictures of grandchildren and, in some cases, great grandchildren, were shared.
World War II raged for almost all of their three years in high school -- there were only 11 years of public school in those days -- and much of their time outside of class was spent in activities aimed at getting ready for war and supporting the military and civilian effort to end it. But there were football games and dances, first dates and lasting romances, too.
In short, they had a lot to talk about.
A historic overview of Sumter and Edmunds High School was presented by Sammy Way, who then led the class on a bus tour of parts of the city. The class of 1944 ended its reunion by attending the House of Bluegrass concert at the Sumter Opera House.
Bittersweet goodbyes and promises to keep in touch and even some talk of another reunion filled the entrance of the Opera House as the class of '44 departed for their homes and hotel rooms, perhaps with the words from the old Edmunds High School alma mater still in their heads;
Here's to the land that gave me birth,
Here's to the flag she flies.
Here's to her sons, the best on earth.
Here's to her starry skies ...
O Sumter High, dear Sumter High,
We never shall forget.
That golden haze of student days
Is round about us yet.
Those days of yore will come no more,
But through the future years,
The thought of you,
so good, so true,
will fill our eyes with tears ...

Synchronicity?

Leonard Cohen is haunting me. It's a good haunting. I mean, what if it were Peter Frampton?
Today at breakfast, I read in The New Yorker Sasha Frere-Jones' review/appreciation of Cohen, who's not exactly making a comeback. To those who appreciate his words and his deep, worn, experienced voice, his bluesy, cool jazz and pop -- even beat -- music and style, he's always been there in our heads and on our turntables. Frere-Jones calls this his "return." The essay brought back memories.
My first taste of Cohen's music came in the summer of 1969. At Winthrop College, it was the beginning of the "hippie" era. Steve White, a local man I'd met when we played two-thirds of Bertoldt Brecht's God in Winthrop's production of "The Good Woman of Setzuan," was known on campus and in town as "the first hippie in South Carolina." Probably not true, but it felt good to believe we knew such a person. He was a good musician and a good listener.
On the 7th floor of Richardson Hall, there were only 3 students that summer, and we didn't really know each other. Carol Conroy and I had become friends after a very spirited argument about "King Lear" in Les Reynolds' Shakespearean tragedies class.Still, in 1969 there was a trust among visual artist Anne Hendricks, poet Carol and me. We never locked our doors, hardly ever closed them at all. It was a '60s thing, for sure.
This particular night, really about 3 a.m., Carol came in my room while I was sleeping and shook me awake. Always an insomniac, she'd been reading or writing for hours.
"Come with me," she said. "You've got to hear the most beautiful song ever written."
I followed her across the hall, sat on the floor and watched her move the needle of her phonograph to the smooth groove between cuts on an album, not able to see the artist's name or read the title of the album or the song.
A clear soprano I later learned was Judy Collins started singing "Suzanne takes you down to her place by the river. You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night beside her ... and she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China ..."
At that moment, it was truly the most beautiful song in the world.
I've been remembering that pivotal summer all day, how much of it was lived to the lyrics of Leonard Cohen and later to those of Joni Mitchell. It was the summer that, thanks to Carol and Anne and Leonard Cohen I traded basketball for books and music and poetry.
Or maybe it was just hormones.
Tonight after dinner I turned on SCETV. They were in a beg-a-thon break, but almost immediately faded to "Leonard Cohen Live in London." He came to the microphone playing the intro to "Suzanne" alone on his guitar. In his 70s, his voice hasn't changed all that much. The musical accompaniment was simple, because simple was what was right. He wore a fedora and a double-breasted suit on his very lean body and he bent into his handheld microphone like he was telling it a story no one else knew, though the song is more than 4 decades old. It'll make you cry. ETV will show it again.
Remember "Bird on a Wire?"
"Like a bird on a wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir,
I have tried in my way to be free."
Listen to Leonard Cohen some time. I'll loan you an LP or make you a cassette tape. That's the way to hear his music if you can't see him in person. It'll make you appreciate the perfect melding of poetry and music.
Carol's a marvelous poet living in New York City now. I have her books. She still hand writes wonderful letters and cards to me. Anne's making art near Clemson. I'm writing a little, but mostly appreciating music and literature and sincere friendships.
I've got Jennifer Warnes' record "Famous Blue Raincoat" on my turntable right now, and I'll follow it with 1968's "The Songs of Leonard Cohen."
Really, I'll make you a tape.

The better butter movie

Watching "Julie and Julia" at the Beacon Theatre Saturday afternoon was almost as satisfying as a plateful of Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon. My three companions and I had been waiting with much anticipation to see the film, mainly because as baby boomers, we all remember watching Child's show, "The French Chef," live on our black-and-white TVs. In my family's case, that was a 17-inch Philco portable my father showed up with one night, perhaps straight from having won it in a poker game.
It was a Friday, and the Eptings and Mixons were coming over for dinner.Daddy set the TV up in the living room, turned it on to warm up (this took a while back then), then, when he heard a car drive up, he turned out the lights. The other families, neither of which had a TV yet (we "watched" Superman and The Lone Ranger on big radio consoles), were surprised and excited at the blue glow of the test pattern, an Indian chief in a circle. Then we watched the Friday night fights, a ritual my father and I followed religiously until a boxer died from the battering he took in a fight, and boxing went out of vogue for years.
But I digress ...
It was a transporting experience to watch Meryl Streep become Julia Child. Oh, Amy Adams was fine as Julie Powell, who had cooked all of the recipes in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" in a single year, but it was Streep who was the star. She got Julia's voice, mannerisms and personality; it was almost as if she were channeling her.
Another star of the film is ... butter. Gobs and gobs of butter. If anyone came out of that theater not feeling hungry, more power to them.
My companions and I immediately drove to The Farm Store and purchased two 2-pound logs of unsalted, organic butter made at the Happy Cow in Lamar. We each vowed to cook a recipe from Julia's book for our next birthday gathering in October. And one of us went home, spread some butter on a piece of bread and savored every bite.
There was some sadness associated with Saturday's experience, too.
We realized we have few friends who regularly cook meals, whether gourmet or just homestyle, from scratch for themselves and friends. Frozen meals, microwaves, prepackaged meals from the store, takeout -- while valuable in their own ways, these could be killing the fine art of cooking real food. I even know people in their 20s who didn't know you can pop popcorn on top of the stove in a pot. And they've never tasted real macaroni and cheese, or macaroni pie, as my mother calls it.
I wonder how Julia Child would fare on "The Next Food Network Star" or "Chopped." Could she be the selfish barracuda it seems to take for those TV reality shows? Would she be willing to sacrifice her art for the quick cooking required on "Chopped?" I don't think so.
No matter. She is pretty much responsible for TV cooking shows as we know them today. And even if cooking good food remains a spectator sport ("Top Chef," "Chopped" or "Kitchen Nightmares"), I know at least four people who'll be cooking at home a lot more.
We'll open "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" randomly, close our eyes and drop our finger on the page. And wonderful aromas of breads, sauces, stews and desserts will warm our kitchens as we bring back the "family" dinners we ate around the dining room table while Milton Berle cavorted in our living rooms.
I bet those 20-somethings will eat it, too. I just hope they'll cook a little bit.

Secret's out -- it's Buzz

The secret's out. Buzz Cornell is Tevye in Sumter Little Theater's "Fiddler on the Roof," coming up Aug. 13 at Patriot Hall.
I went to the Wednesday night rehearsal of "Fiddler on the Roof," and was most impressed. Even without the completed set and the full orchestra, the cast seemed almost ready for opening night.
Buzz, who's equally talented as a singer and an actor, was wonderful singing "If I Were a Rich Man," and Zachary Hugo, whom I haven't seen before, sang "Miracle of Miracles" believably in a rich tenor.
Here you've got a talented cast, gifted and highly experienced director (Katie Damron), music director (Joni Brown), choreographer (Libby Singleton), costumer (Marge Cowles) -- and that's just scratching the surface. "Fiddler" is an enormous undertaking for a community theater and not many can do it like SLT. Just think of the recent "Oklahoma," and you'll realize what a talented bunch of people we have in Sumter.
I don't want to give too much away, but I heard a couple of other songs and saw some dancing, too. This is going to be a show you won't want to miss. You can already get tickets by calling 775-2150.

Jazz artist drops by

The supremely talented jazz/cabaret singer and pianist, Daryl Sherman, stopped by The Item Tuesday to say hello. She had just finished a gig in New Orleans and is taking a few days off before heading back to New York.
Just about a year ago, Daryl gave a wonderful performance at The Imperial, accompanied by saxophonist Skipp Pearson and his ensemble. The house was packed, and Daryl's singing was impeccable. Her banter between songs and humor (some even during the songs) engaged everyone in the room.
Tuesday, Lynn Kennedy gave Daryl a tour of the Sumter Opera House. She was very impressed.
Could there be another Daryl Sherman performance in the works? Signs say -- "Could be" -- and on the second shake of the old 8-ball, "Ask again later."
I will, with fingers crossed.

Check out Daryl Sherman's recent appearance on "Marian McPartland's Piano Jazz" on NPR. She performed a great set of Johnny Mercer tunes.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=105952486

Cabaret at The Imperial

Linda Beck celebrated her birthday last Thursday the way she's spent Thursday nights for several months now -- at the keyboard in The Imperial's piano bar. Linda and Anne Galloway, who's the vocalist in the duo, performed old standards, some contemporary tunes and even some beach music for the crowd, which was sizable.
Most of those in the bar appeared to be baby boomers, so the wide range of music was perfect.
During the duo's break, Anne sat down and talked about the gig.
"I've sung in the choir, with groups, especially with my brother Hank (Martin) and friends," she said, "but this is the first time I've done something where I sing by myself. I love it."
Anne and Linda made the perfect duo, bantering a bit with the audience and each other between numbers. The crowd often seemed to be singing along softly, and you almost expected one of them to walk over to the mic and belt out a few bars with Anne.
Linda's improvisations on the piano (she sang a little bit, too) were crowd pleasers. She said she felt like she could play every night, but school's starting soon, and she has to go back to her gig as Furman Middle School's chorus teacher (and the director of the fine musical comedies the school puts on each year). So just Thursdays will have to do for the next nine months, at least.
Both said they're having a great time together. Anne said she'd often dreamed of being in a long black, sequined dress with a long cigarette holder, holding forth in some New York club.
It may not have been a New York jazz club, but Thursday night the singing and playing was excellent. All that was missing were the swirls of blue smoke in the spotlights.
Linda and Anne will be back in The Imperial Piano Bar Thursday from 7-10 p.m. There's no charge for admission.
Chuck Wilson, who's at the piano with Linda, played "Happy Birthday" for the crowd to sing along.