Tuesday, January 22, 2013

No one imagines ...

While I was away on a business trip, Wednesday, January 16, 2013, came and went. It was a memorable day for me but the details I shall not bore you with... at least not today. What I shall note is that I was not here to turn the page on my calendar. I was back at work and did so today. And in turning the pages, I came upon the note for Wednesday, January 16, 2013 and was compelled to stop and ponder the meaning of the message contained therein. The note is a quote by Alan Watts, a gentleman I do not know but who I think I might like to know. Mr. Watts is quoted as saying:

"No one imagines that a symphony is supposed to improve as it goes along, or that the whole object of playing is to reach the finale. The point of music is discovered in every moment of playing and listening to it. It is the same, I feel, with the greater part of our lives, and if we are unduly absorbed in improving them we may forget altogether to live them."

My friends, whoever you may be, and wherever you are, it is my prayer that we too never forget to live our lives.

Friday, January 11, 2013

The Largest Structure in the Universe

Largest structure in universe discovered — it's mind-boggling

Large quasar group stretches 4 billion light-years, so big theory says it shouldn't exist

ESO / M. Kornmesser
Light from the most distant quasar yet seen reveals details about the chemistry of the early universe.
By
updated 1/11/2013 12:38:37 PM ET2013-01-11T17:38:37
Astronomers have discovered the largest known structure in the universe, a clump of active galactic cores that stretches 4 billion light-years from end to end.
The structure is a large quasar group (LQG), a collection of extremely luminous galactic nuclei powered by supermassive central black holes. This particular group is so large that it challenges modern cosmological theory, researchers said.
"While it is difficult to fathom the scale of this LQG, we can say quite definitely it is the largest structure ever seen in the entire universe," lead author Roger Clowes, of the University of Central Lancashire in England, said in a statement. "This is hugely exciting, not least because it runs counter to our current understanding of the scale of the universe."
Quasars are the brightest objects in the universe. For decades, astronomers have known that they tend to assemble in huge groups, some of which are more than 600 million light-years wide.
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But the record-breaking quasar group, which Clowes and his team spotted in data gathered by the Sloan Digital Sky Survey, is on another scale altogether. The newfound LQC is composed of 73 quasars and spans about 1.6 billion light-years in most directions, though it is 4 billion light-years across at its widest point.
To put that mind-boggling size into perspective, the disk of the Milky Way galaxy — home of Earth's solar system — is about 100,000 light-years wide. And the Milky Way is separated from its nearest galactic neighbor, Andromeda, by about 2.5 million light-years.
The newly discovered LQC is so enormous, in fact, that theory predicts it shouldn't exist, researchers said. The quasar group appears to violate a widely accepted assumption known as the cosmological principle, which holds that the universe is essentially homogeneous when viewed at a sufficiently large scale.
Calculations suggest that structures larger than about 1.2 billion light-years should not exist, researchers said.
"Our team has been looking at similar cases which add further weight to this challenge, and we will be continuing to investigate these fascinating phenomena," Clowes said.
The new study was published Friday in the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society.

The Chico Kid v. The Turlock Tornado and My (Our) Hypocrisy

Tomorrow is a big day for football fans in the Bay Area. Tomorrow is when the Green Bay Packers led by Aaron Rodgers (of Chico, California) come to town to do battle with the San Francisco 49ers led by Colin Kaepernick (of Turlock, California) in one of the four featured playoff games being played this weekend. Despite the fact that I have reservations about the suspected PED use in the NFL and despite the sobering news that Junior Seau, the Hall of Fame caliber linebacker most famously with the San Diego Chargers who committed suicide last year, had developed a degenerative brain disease linked to blows to the head from his 20 year NFL career, I suspect that I will be in front of the television set rooting for the Niners to beat the Packers in a "hard hitting" game.

In my mind it does raise a number of questions. How can one take enjoyment from a game that results in the physical and mental damage of so many? How can one really respect a game wherein one suspects that so many of the players are "juiced?" In light of what happened to RGIII last week, where the coach continued to play him even though he clearly was only able to use one leg, one must ask who really cares about the athletes? Granted many of them make millions of dollars, but whatever money Seau made during his 20 year career brought him no peace in the end. Should we care about these individuals even when they appear not to have the sense to care for themselves?

And yet despite the reservations and the questions, I will still be watching the game tomorrow. I will marvel at 340 pound linemen that are able to run faster than I could in high school. I will marvel at athletes that are able to rush for over 2000 yards only a year after tearing an ACL. I will be astounded at the ability of guys to pick themselves up after being hit head on by a 250 pound linebacker with a force that would cause most humans to suffer from whiplash for the next few months. I will marvel at all this and, in the end, I will quietly acknowledge my own hypocrisy because it is precisely this display of the extraordinary that makes this game so compelling.

Go Niners!

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Neil Armstrong, First Person to Walk on the Moon


Neil Armstrong dies at 82; first person to walk on moon

Neil Armstrong's 'giant leap for mankind' as he set foot on the lunar surface in 1969 climaxed a monumental achievement in human history. Despite his fame, the former fighter pilot shrank from the spotlight and called himself a 'nerdy engineer.'

August 25, 2012|By Valerie J. Nelson and Eric Malnic, Special to the Los Angeles Times
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  • Neil Armstrong inside the Apollo 11 lunar module after his historic walk on the surface of the moon.
Neil Armstrong inside the Apollo 11 lunar module after his historic walk… (NASA )
When Neil Armstrong became the first person to set foot on the moon, on July 20, 1969, he uttered a phrase that has been carved in stone and quoted across the planet: "That's one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind."
The grainy black-and-white television images of him taking his first lunar stroll were watched by an estimated 600 million people worldwide — and firmly established him as one of the great heroes of the 20th century.
Armstrong, who had heart surgery in early August, died Saturday in Cincinnati at 82, said NASA spokesman Bob Jacobs. The cause was complications from cardiovascular procedures, his family announced.
For the usually taciturn Armstrong, the poetic statement was a rare burst of eloquence, a sound bite for the ages that only increased his fame. He was never comfortable with celebrity he saw as an accident of fate, for stepping on the moon ahead of fellow astronaut Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin. The reticent, self-effacing Armstrong would shun the spotlight for much of the rest of his life.
In a rare public appearance, in 2000, Armstrong cast himself in another light: "I am, and ever will be, a white-sock, pocket-protector, nerdy engineer."
History would beg to disagree.
In a statement, President Obama said that when Armstrong stepped on the moon, "he delivered a moment of human achievement that will never be forgotten."
And when Armstrong and his two fellow crew members lifted off from Earth in Apollo 11, "they carried with them the aspirations of an entire nation," Obama said. "They set out to show the world that American spirit can see beyond what seems unimaginable — that with enough drive and ingenuity, anything is possible."
NASA administrator Charles Bolden spoke for many when he said, "As long as there are history books, Neil Armstrong will be included in them."
"Besides being one of America's greatest explorers, Neil carried himself with grace and humility that was an example to us all," Bolden said in a statement.
In the years that followed the flight of Apollo 11, Armstrong was asked again and again what it felt like to be the first man on the moon. In answering, he always shared the glory: "I was certainly aware that this was the culmination of the work of 300,000 to 400,000 people over a decade."
Yet how many other self-proclaimed nerdy engineers flew 78 combat missions as a Navy fighter pilot during the Korean War? Logged more than 1,000 hours as a test pilot in some of the world's fastest and most dangerous aircraft? Or became one of the first civilian astronauts and commanded Apollo 11, the first manned flight to land on the moon?
His biographer, James R. Hansen, called Armstrong "one of the best-known and least-understood people on the planet."
When asked to describe the astronaut in just a few words, Hansen told Ohio's Columbus Dispatch in 2005 that Armstrong was "stoic, self-controlled, dedicated, earnest, hardworking and honest."
Neil Alden Armstrong was born Aug. 5, 1930, on his grandfather's farm near Wapakoneta, Ohio, and had a happy and conventional upbringing.
His civil servant father, Stephen Armstrong, audited county records in Ohio and later served as assistant director of the Ohio Mental Hygiene and Corrections Department. The family of his mother, Viola, owned the farm.
For more than a decade, his family moved around Ohio to accommodate his father's job before settling down in Wapakoneta.
At age 6 he took a ride in a transport plane, then rushed home and began building model airplanes — and a wind tunnel to test them.
A good student, Armstrong was a much-decorated Boy Scout and played the baritone horn in a school band. But aviation always came first.
In 1945, he started taking flying lessons, paying for them by working as a stock clerk at a drugstore. On his 16th birthday, he got his pilot's license but didn't yet have a driver's license.
Upon graduating from high school in 1947, he attended Purdue University on a Navy scholarship. By the time the Korean War started in 1950, Armstrong had been called to active duty.
After flight training, Armstrong was assigned to the carrier Essex, flying combat missions over North Korea. Although one of the Panther jets he flew off the carrier was crippled by enemy fire, he nursed the plane back over South Korea before bailing out safely.
Recognized as an outstanding pilot with a flair for leadership, he received three Air Medals before finishing his active duty in 1952.
He returned to Purdue and earned a bachelor's degree in aeronautical engineering in 1955.
Within months, he was a civilian test pilot for the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, which became the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. He was soon stationed at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert, chronicled by author Tom Wolfe as the home to pilots with "The Right Stuff."

Marvin Hamlisch, Composer of "The Way We Were"


Marvin Hamlisch, Whose Notes Struck Gold, Dies at 68



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Marvin Hamlisch, the Pulitzer Prize-winning composer who imbued his movie and Broadway scores with pizazz and panache and often found his songs in the upper reaches of the pop charts, died on Monday in Los Angeles. He was 68 and lived in New York.
Marvin Hamlisch
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A rehearsal of “A Chorus Line,” with music by Marvin Hamlisch, from 1975.
Alex J. Berliner/Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, via Associated Press
Mr. Hamlisch with Barbra Streisand.
Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
A scene from the final performance of the Broadway musical "A Chorus Line" in 1990. Marvin Hamlisch won a Tony Award for his score to the show.
Nancy Kaye/Associated Press
Marvin Hamlisch, right, at the piano with the lyricist Howard Ashman in 1986.
He collapsed on Monday after a brief illness, a family friend said.
For a few years starting in 1973, Mr. Hamlisch spent practically as much time accepting awards for his compositions as he did writing them. He is one of a handful of artists to win every major creative prize, some of them numerous times, including an Oscar for “The Way We Were” (1973, shared with the lyricists Marilyn and Alan Bergman), a Grammy as best new artist (1974), and a Tony and a Pulitzer for “A Chorus Line” (1975, shared with the lyricist Edward Kleban, the director Michael Bennett and the book writers James Kirkwood Jr. and Nicholas Dante).
All told, he won three Oscars, four Emmys and four Grammys. His omnipresence on awards and talk shows made him one of the last in a line of celebrity composers that included Henry Mancini, Burt Bacharach and Stephen Sondheim. Mr. Hamlisch, bespectacled and somewhat gawky, could often appear to be the stereotypical music school nerd — in fact, at 7 he was the youngest student to be accepted to the Juilliard School at the time — but his appearance belied his intelligence and ability to banter easily with the likes of Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin. His melodies were sure-footed and sometimes swashbuckling. “One,” from “A Chorus Line,” with its punchy, brassy lines, distills the essence of the Broadway showstopper.
“A Chorus Line,” a backstage musical in which Broadway dancers told their personal stories, started as a series of taped workshops, then evolved into a show that opened at the Public Theater in 1975 and moved to Broadway later that year. It ran for 6,137 performances, the most of any Broadway musical until it was surpassed by “Cats.”
“I have to keep reminding myself that ‘A Chorus Line’ was initially considered weird and off the wall,” Mr. Hamlisch told The New York Times in 1983. “You mustn’t underestimate an audience’s intelligence.” The lyricist Alan Jay Lerner called “A Chorus Line” “the great show business story of our time.”
Mr. Hamlisch had a long association with Barbra Streisand that began when, at 19, he became a rehearsal pianist for her show “Funny Girl.” Yet he told Current Biography in 1976 that Ms. Streisand was reluctant to record what became the pair’s greatest collaboration, “The Way We Were,” the theme from the 1973 movie of the same name in which Ms. Streisand starred with Robert Redford.
“I had to beg her to sing it,” he said. “She thought it was too simple.”
Mr. Hamlisch prevailed, though, and the song became a No. 1 pop single, an Oscar winner and a signature song for Ms. Streisand. They continued to work together across the decades; Mr. Hamlisch was the musical director for her 1994 tour and again found himself accepting an award for his work, this time an Emmy.
Ms. Streisand said in a statement through her publicist that the world will always remember Mr. Hamlisch’s music, but that it was “his brilliantly quick mind, his generosity and delicious sense of humor that made him a delight to be around.”
Mr. Hamlisch had his second-biggest pop hit with “Nobody Does It Better,” the theme from the James Bond film “The Spy Who Loved Me,” written with the lyricist Carole Bayer Sager. Carly Simon’s recording of the song reached No. 2 in 1977. Thom Yorke, the lead singer of the band Radiohead, which has performed the song in concert more recently, called it “the sexiest song ever written.”
Yet for all Mr. Hamlisch’s pop success — he and Ms. Bayer Sager also wrote a No. 1 soul hit for Aretha Franklin, “Break It to Me Gently” — his first love was writing for theater and the movies. His score for “The Sting,” which adapted the ragtime music of Scott Joplin, made him a household ubiquity in 1973.
Despite the acclaim he often said he thought his background scores were underappreciated. He said he would love for an audience to “see a movie once without the music” to appreciate how the experience changed. He would go on to write more than 40 movie scores.
Marvin Frederick Hamlisch was born June 2, 1944, in New York . His father, Max, was an accordionist, and at age 5 Mr. Hamlisch was reproducing on the piano songs he heard on the radio; Juilliard soon followed. According to his wife, Terre Blair, he was being groomed as “the next Horowitz,” but when all the doors were closed and everyone was gone he would play show tunes. He performed some concerts and recitals as a teenager at Town Hall and other Manhattan auditoriums, but soon gave up on the idea of being a full-time performer.
“Before every recital, I would violently throw up, lose weight, the veins on my hands would stand out,” he told Current Biography.
He had no such reaction, though, when his song “Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows,” with lyrics by Howard Liebling, became a Top 20 hit in 1965 for Lesley Gore, when Mr. Hamlisch was 21. The movie producer Sam Spiegel heard him playing piano a few years later at a party and as a result Mr. Hamlisch scored his first film, “The Swimmer.”
Mr. Hamlisch soon moved to Los Angeles, and the successes snowballed. But he remained a New Yorker through and through. He once said he liked New York because it was the one place “where you’re allowed to wear a tie.”
Mr. Hamlisch is survived by Ms. Blair, a television broadcaster and producer, whom he married in 1989.  His sister, Terry Liebling, a Hollywood casting director and the wife of his former collaborator Howard Liebling, died in 2001.
After “A Chorus Line,” Mr. Hamlisch scored another Broadway hit, “They’re Playing Our Song,” based on his relationship with Ms. Bayer Sager (who wrote the lyrics), in 1979. It ran for 1,082 performances. After that, the accolades subsided but the work didn’t. He worked with various lyricists on subesequent musicals, including “Jean Seberg” (1983), which was staged in London but never reached Broadway, and “Smile” (1986), which did reach Broadway but had a very brief run. His most steady work continued to come from the movies. He wrote the background scores for “Ordinary People,” “Sophie’s Choice” and, most recently, “The Informant.” His later theater scores included “The Goodbye Girl” (1993), “Sweet Smell of Success” (2002) and “Imaginary Friends” (2002). He had also completed the scores for an HBO movie based on the life of Liberace, “Behind the Candelabra,” and for a musical based on the Jerry Lewis film “The Nutty Professor,” which opened in Nashville last month.
According to his official Web site, Mr. Hamlisch held the title of pops conductor for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and others.
In more recent years, Mr. Hamlisch became an ambassador for music, traveling the country and performing and giving talks at schools. He often criticized the cuts in arts education.
“I don’t think the American government gets it,” he said during an interview at the Orange County High School of the Arts in Santa Ana, Calif. “I don’t think they understand it’s as important as math and science. It rounds you out as a person. I think it gives you a love of certain things. You don’t have to become the next great composer. It’s just nice to have heard certain things or to have seen certain things. It’s part of being a human being.”
Despite all his honors, Mr. Hamlisch was always most focused on, and most excited about, his newest project. Ms. Blair said. And, she said, he was always appreciative of his gift: “He used to say, ‘It’s easy to write things that are so self-conscious that they become pretentious, that have a lot of noise. It’s very hard to write a simple melody.’ ”

This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:
Correction: August 7, 2012

An earlier version of this article said that Alan Jay Lerner was a composer; he was a lyricist.