And the Oscar Goes to....

"The Man I Love" ! Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen-Live in Italy- 1961

 A perfect interlude on a semi-gloomy day.... the bread is baking, the chicken soup is simmering and these guys are cookin'!


Comments

Veronica Wald said…
I've picked up some great music videos on your site. I do love classic swing!
November 11, 2009 at 5:08 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hey, Norman! How ‘Bout Us? by Karin Kascher

Image
First published: December 1995 Tiny Lights Publications paintings by Norman Rockwell photographs by Karin Kascher They’re back!  The holidays. One of Norman Rockwell’s merrily contented families enjoying a delectable feast pops into my mind when the approaching festivities are mentioned.  I can see someone’s Uncle Bob, sober as a judge, carving the succulent, evenly browned beast with white paper tassels atop the plump and juicy drumsticks. His calm and blissful expression is emulated by all the eager guests seated around the perfectly set table.  And who should appear through the swinging kitchen door but sweet Aunt Dorothy, white-haired and rosy-cheeked, wearing her simple, dark blue dress, dotted with tiny pink roses and a neatly starched apron.  She is proudly presenting her freshly baked pies to the sounds of oohs and ahhs, and respectful squeals of delight!   Come to think of it, when did dear Aunt Dorothy find the time to single-handedly ...
Read more

The Bitch Is Back!

Image
 I WILL SURVIVE! Sadly, my mother, Helena, passed away this past Christmas Eve. It was a drama of CSI proportions, as were most of her 81, tumultuous, Transylvanian émigré years. Finding her deceased on Christmas day, after the sheriff was forced to kick in her door (she was too paranoid to give me a key to her house), proved to be, beyond surrealistic. She had not planned to die, so left no directives for her demise and protected her fortress with stunning effectiveness. The Walnut Ranch in Kelseyville, CA This past Sunday, we all drove to my parents’ walnut ranch to ceremoniously scatter her ashes. While waiting for my sister’s arrival, our dog, Quinn, who relishes the freedom of running at full-throttle and chasing squirrels and rabbits on the rural expanse, was romping with my son, Michael's  golden retriever, Millie. The two dogs were madly chasing each other and then attempted to jump up and over a retaining wall made of stacked obsidian rock (coo...
Read more