Showing posts with label Steve McQueen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steve McQueen. Show all posts

Saturday, January 30, 2021

January 30, 2021, by Tosh Berman

 


January 30, 2021


Last night I watched "Education" by Steve McQueen, part of his "Small Axe" series.  Although the show deals with race issues in London, it also struck a deep chord with me as I watched this specific episode.  Like the main character, due to racism, is sent off to a school for students who are "educationally subnormal." Although not for racial reasons, except that I came from a family of bohemian beatniks, I too was sent to an American version of a school that handles the "educationally subnormal." In other words, I was technically ruled by my previous school as an idiot. Like the main character in "Education," I too felt ashamed and embarrassed to be placed in a "special school." Did I need to go?


That's a question that can't be answered. I clearly was raised in a somewhat eccentric household. In the early 1960s, there was a vast separation between the Bohemian and the straight world. I was bused back and forth to this school. In actuality, it was a regular elementary school, but with some room set aside for the weirdo students. There were only a handful of classmates. One is David, who lacked any form of keeping attention on anything. The other child reminded me of Steve McQueen (the actor, not the director) because he wore gray sweatshirts and jeans and sometimes wore checkered button-down shirts that were obviously ironed every morning. He had a series of physical tics. There was a Japanese-American girl there who never spoke, even when spoken to by a teacher. And there were others, but I don't have a clear memory of them. 


Certainly, my sense of logic is totally different from others, who probably had a formal relationship to logical thought. And my math skills were horrific. My understanding of math is within my ten fingers. Anything beyond that is a total and endless mystery to me. Still, I never fully understood why I was placed in a special school. No one explained the reasons, nor did anyone sat me down with a proper talk.  I was simply was told by a school administrator that I should go there, and I did. Also, very rarely would a parent insist that there was something wrong with the set-up. Especially in the early 1960s, where authority had a firm hand in relaying your options in life. I never blamed my parents or anyone, really. However, I still knew the difference between regular school and this class I was sent to, due to what I presume is the reason I'm stupid. 


There are all sorts of stupid. Perhaps I did have a learning problem, but then again, one sees stupidity on a regular basis. Such as (as of this writing) the demonstration taking place at Dodger's Stadium by people who don't believe in vaccines. I may be off or even stupid, but I'm not insane like those people. If you are against taking a vaccine for public health reasons, OK, that's weird. But why would anyone want to stop people from getting a vaccine for themselves or their families at Dodger's Stadium? When you look at the big picture, my mistreatment from the school world is nothing. I will get over it, and the memory of the pain sometimes stings me to be treated in such a manner, but I feel I did well with my life.   On top of that, I became friends with the students in that special class.  In hindsight, there was nothing wrong with them. 

Monday, April 27, 2020

April 27, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

April 27, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

The one thing about Americans as a culture or society is that they are predictable.  Their Achilles Heel is that they must feel independent from others.  It's a culture that is based on the importance of "Me" than anything else.  If you tell them not to go to the beach, for example, they will feel like a matter of pride, and human right, that they must crowd the coastline as a sign of their importance to themselves.  Also, they are merely bored.  Which I totally understand.  They may live in a small compact structure, and also, there are the issues of them having children, dogs, all screaming to go outside somewhere, anywhere that is not in their restricted living area.  Viruses are a mystery force.  One cannot see it; therefore, one must suspect that it even exists.  If it was space aliens hovering over Los Angeles, that is one thing, but can one be in fear of something that is not obvious to them?  If the day is sunny and warm, it's very American to go out and play among fellow citizens.  For me, I hate social gatherings.  I prefer staying at home and working on writing and watching "Wanted: Dead or Alive" (starring Steve McQueen) on streaming services.

Twice a month, Kimley and I do a podcast "BOOK MUSIK," where we focus on one book on music per episode.  We just finished reading Nik Cohn's "Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom: The Golden Age of Rock."   The book, written in 1968 by a then 22-year old pop music geek, is a masterful form of youth reflecting on the pop culture of the 1950s and 1960s.  Cohn had the knack of praising an artist at the beginning of the paragraph, and by the end of that paragraph, he says they're shit.  Every sentence he writes is argumentive but superbly written.  Cohn and Ian Penman, I think, are my favorite prose stylists who write on music.   Of course, I will probably change my mind next week.

My hobbies at home are watching early 1960s TV shows on streaming services, hating President Virus (that takes a great deal of time, a real time-waster), reading music books, memoirs, and playing records.   What I find horrific is reading the daily death counts on the popular media and social platforms.  It seems my entire generation, the baby boomers, are quickly dying off.  That's a total drag.  The Trump Virus has killed many, and also the aging of the bones and body are working hand-in-hand in eliminating the people I love or respect.

On the other hand, Lun*na and I put up a canvas covering to protect us from the direct sunlight when we sit out and have our wine around 6 in the evening.   We're fortunate that we can spend the time to reflect on the world around us, and in such a manner of reasonable comfort.  Have a great day. -Tosh Berman.


Sunday, March 23, 2014

March 24, 2014



March 24, 2014

Today I’m leaving Tokyo, and today I’ll be back in Los Angeles.  My wife and I made a decision to live here in Tokyo and in Los Angeles as well.   We have a home here, or I should say a very small room.  I’m looking forward to my dual-life of being a Tokyoite and an Angeles man.  As I get older (and I’m old) my life is just about to enter a great adventure.  For my whole life, I often felt like Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape.” As a kid, I went to see that film at least five times in a movie theater.   I think being an only child, I sort of identified with the McQueen character.  For some reason I suspected that he too was a single child. In fact, I heard he had a rough childhood.  Mine, on the other hand was the life of a prince.  Nevertheless, I was quite attracted to the image of McQueen on a motorcycle trying to escape from the prison camp in the film.  I haven’t seen the film for decades, and I don’t think I really want to re-visit the images, because they’re so strong in my head.



As a child in Beverly Glen, I would often see Steve McQueen on a motorcycle driving through the canyon.  One time I was having lunch with my dad, when all of a sudden he appeared in the cafe.  He looked exactly like his character in “The Great Escape.” In fact, my memory of him that day was his wearing a sweatshirt and khaki pants.  He also had a leather jacket on, because he was riding his motorcycle.  Through out my life I have seen images from films, and come upon them in real life.  It is still disconcerting to see an actual image in front of you coming to life.



Tokyo is the same way with me.  I know that city through films.  Mostly by works of Ozu and Kurasawa.   Whenever I see a structure from the 1950s I sort of feel star-struck at its appearance.  The film world of Tokyo is exactly the same as when one is here.  Los Angeles can be altered in the cinema world, but for some reason Tokyo remains Tokyo no matter what.   Even with The Godzilla films, the Tokyo that is displayed as little models is very much the Tokyo I know.   I don’t know why, but the city can’t help being what it is - Tokyo!