Rambling about the Beatles & When I'm 64 . . .

Paul McCartney composed this whimsical love song when he was sixteen years old. Eight years later "64" would become an unexpected hit and take its place in the most significant album in the history of 60's rock and roll.

I refer, of course, to the song, "When I'm 64," and the album, Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band. "When I'm 64" was released in 1966 as the B-side of the juke-box single, featuring "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."  In 1967 it was placed on the Sergeant Peppers album.

Everyone back then loved the Beatles. They were a sensation that even they couldn't explain. At first it was all fun, a fusion of Buddy Holly, Elvis, Carl Perkins, The Everly Brothers, Chuck Berry and Little Richard by a British guitar-playing quartet and hits like "Twist and Shout."

Then something happened and art imitated and abetted the changing world.*

In 1965, the Beatles produced the transitional album Rubber Soul, the first album where John, Paul, George and Ringo had complete control of the music, and, where the Beatles produced songs like "Norwegian Wood." "Twist and Shout" it wasn't. A year or so later, the Beatles went "all in" with Sergeant Peppers. Everything about it was different from the iconic album cover, to the full orchestra, to songs like "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and with it rock and roll had the permanent imprint of the psychedelic age. Fifteen million albums were sold worldwide. It was a tidal wave.

The White Album followed in 1968, a double album set, and so also the beginning of the end of that short-lived musical era. The despair of John Lennon, and to a lesser degree the other members, permeates the album in songs like "I'm So Tired," "Revolution 1," and "Revolution 9." Notwithstanding, some of their best music is found in the White Album: Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and McCartney's "Blackbird."  (Sidebar: Now,  fifty years later,  the Musak version of "You Say You Want a Revolution" plays in continuous loop on elevators across America, leading me to think that Lennon's despair was not so misguided.)

Abbey Road and Let it Be, released in 1969 and my favorite albums, were the final albums for the Beatles and with few exceptions for 60's music in general. By the time you get to Led Zeppelin and "Stairway to Heaven" in 1971 it's over. Indeed, many of its luminaries were gone: Hendrix, Morrison, and Joplin come to mind, and the Beatles as a band were no more.

Many of us who came of age in 60's were formed in some way by the music of the Beatles. I was 15 when the song "When I'm 64" was released on Sergeant Peppers.

I'm 64 today.

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*Sorry for the gross simplification but you try to explain the 60's in a sentence or two.

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Rest in Peace, Merle Haggard

More Summer Talk: 50 years of the Cape May - Lewes Ferry

Yesterday (1964)

Today

The Cape May-Lewes Ferry celebrates 50 years of service this year. That's fifty years moving passengers and vehicles across the Delaware Bay from Cape May, New Jersey  to Lewes, Delaware and back. By my calculation that puts the start date at 1964. I started riding the ferry in 1965. I was thirteen.

The 1964 ferry was a bulky boat made of thick sheet metal, half-dollar sized rivets, layers of paint, chipped off paint and rust and driven by a diesel engine that you felt and heard and that shot a plume of black smoke into the summer sky (top picture). What kid could resist it?

The highlight of a ferry ride for me in 1964, besides the joy of being at almost-open sea, was watching that big old thing dock. It was there that the ship's size and weight was appreciated. Under the captains guidance, the ship slowly drifted sideways until its metal bumper guard met the dozens of telephone-pole pilings driven into the sea bottom. The pilings bent under the mass of ship as it creaked along the wood towards the landing.

Today, ferry-goers ride in tonier ships (color photo) and docking is as smooth as silk. The old telephone poles have been replaced with neatly grouped pilings with smooth plasticized cushions. Hardly as much fun but I still watch it dock when I ride the ferry.

My most vivid memory of Cape May-Lewes ferry travel was one summer day in 1965 when my buddy Billy Velvel and I hitchhiked the five or so miles from our home in Rehoboth Beach to Lewes, purchased round trip tickets for a quarter, and then hitchhiked from Cape May up the Jersey coast to Wildwood. It's very likely that neither of us had any more money than the cost of the ferry ride and that both of us were shoeless.

I mention that because on this particular trip the hitchhiking failed us on our return to Cape May and that last ferry ride home to Lewes.  We ran, hitchhiked, and ran some more hoping and praying that we we didn't miss the boat. There would be hell to pay with my parents if we did because a) they didn't know we were across the bay in New Jersey, and b) mom or dad would have to make the four hour drive around the bay to pick us up.  And then there was the problem of knowing how we could even call them. Failure to make the return trip was certain death for me. (See image below)

Thankfully, we made it with just a couple minutes to spare.

I get to the beach these days once or twice a year to visit family and to enjoy all that is enjoyable about the eastern shore. And more often than not, I stop by and visit the ferry and every couple of years I take the trip from Lewes to Cape May and back. I'm never, ever disappointed.

Except at the end because the trip is over, and because I still want to see the old, fat ferry crunch the old, creaky telephone poles.
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A Few Thoughts on Summer

A few days ago was the first day of summer, the solstice, or sun standing still.

Its beginning brings to mind a time when summer unofficially began on the last day of school. A time when summer meant endless play for what seemed like endless days. As a young boy we'd play baseball at the park down the street until it got so dark one could hear the ball but not see it, and at the older but still youthful age of seventeen we'd play basketball in the parking lot of the local high school long past sunset.

The last day of school was like standing on a cliff overlooking an ocean that went on forever. We knew the ocean ended in September but for now land was out of site... and mind. Thankfully, I still see and hear that hopefulness in my grandchildren and I cringe at the utilitarian notions of year-round schools, whatever that utility may be.

Back then there were no electronics to keep a child inside and television was a black and white, three-channel medium whose day time broadcasts consisted of soaps, game shows, and westerns. Air-conditioning, that which keeps any sensible person inside these summer days, was still a few years away, so to escape the house-held heat we children sat outside in the shade, and for the fortunate near a lake, the ocean, or a swimming pool.

Most of the time cooling off was done with the hose and a sprinkler. I recall lying on the sidewalk after getting doused and listening to the water sizzle on the hot concrete right under my ear. There were activities but almost none generated by mom and dad who had an easy solution for lying around the house causing trouble which was "find something to do or I'll find something for you" which meant work.

Boredom was a part of summer life and accepted. It seems children aren't allowed to be bored today, every moment of their lives filled with some constructive activity to make them a better person, or athlete, or artist, or scientist. I recall summer days riding our bikes as far as we could from home trying to get lost. The only purpose was the adventure of finding our way home. Now to be fair to today's mothers, my mother expected us to roam the neighborhood all day, knowing that we would be home for dinner.

When all the bike riding and ball playing were done we'd sit with a friend on a step or a swing, not saying much or doing much but altogether happy knowing we weren't in school. That was summer for us. And the beach. There was always the beach.

It is nostalgia, I know, and romantic, I know, but on these first days of summer it does recall the memory of waiting for that last bell to ring on that last class on that last day of school . . . and jumping into summer.

Rafain Brazilian Steakhouse, Fort Worth. All Good.

Marian after dinner and all smiles after a very enjoyable evening

Every once in a while I receive an invitation to sample the fare of a new, soon-to-open restaurant. Such was the case Friday night when Marian and I attended a media-event for the new Rafain Brazilian Steakhouse at West 7th (opening Tuesday, June 24).

A Brazilian Steakhouse as you well know is a little different than the American version. The primary observable difference being that servers carry skewers of assorted cooked meats from table to table. And the Brazilian Steakhouse always features a salad bar, unlimited servings, and fixed pricing. It works well and is particularly enjoyable with a group although Marian and I enjoy it just as much as a couple.

But about this steakhouse. . .

The "salad bar" at Refain Brazilian Steakhouse is better described as a salad/antipasto bar. It's really not fair to call it just a salad bar. There is the assortment of traditional salad fare: romaine, iceburg and other lettuce varieties, but also fresh vegetables like whole steamed asparagus, steamed broccoli,  a selection of breads and olives, and traditional antipasto items like albacore tuna salad, raw salmon, and blocks of assorted cheeses. And more, fifty items in all. I loved the cucumbers, tomatoes, and herbs in a light vinaigrette and the red onions in balsamic vinegar.

Now, it's easy to have a salad bar with a selection of 50 items. It's not easy to have a salad bar where the food is displayed handsomely and where each individual item is prepared properly, kept at the appropriate temperature, and can stand on its own if chosen by itself. That's difficult because it takes time and oversight and someone caring. Refain does it very well.

But of course this is a steakhouse and, as I mentioned, in Brazilian churrascaria style, diners are served by gauchos with skewers of assorted cooked meats. Normally, I would keep close to the skewers of beef, but I wanted to try a little of everything so I did: Parmesan crusted pork, bacon-wrapped chicken breast, lamb, filet-mignon, spicy Brazilian sausage (was that ever good) and just when I was gasping for air, slices of roasted pineapple lightly dusted on the sides with cinnamon. By the way, most important to me: the meats are served right-off-the-grill hot. Brazilian-style is charcoal grilled which gives a smoky flavor and a little crust.

Lest I forget, add to each table a serving of polenta, piping hot bread rolls with a center of melted Parmesan, and mashed potatoes. All good.

But dining is more than good food and drink, it is good company, good conversation, and a comfortable, relaxed setting. In our view, besides the great food, Refain's provides the right setting and a helpful staff for a completely enjoyable evening.

This is the second restaurant in the U.S. for the Refain family (the other is in Dallas) who also own and operate a handful of restaurants in Brazil as well as a convention hotel in Brazil.

Refain Brazilian Steakhouse
2932 Crockett Street, Fort Worth, TX 76107
Opens Tuesday, June 24 for dinner. Opening for lunch at a later date.
Price: $31-$50 (price-fixed). Unlimited servings.

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Marian with the first serving of lamb (I think)

My first serving from the salad bar, the fried polenta is the dish behind the salad plate

The salad bar

 Marian with Restaurant Manager, Donilo Magalhaes (sorry for the out focus shot)

Marian with some hitchhiker she picked up on I-30.