Now I'm 64

Summer 1967. The summer of love they called it. It was my 15th summer. Sqt. Pepper was the number one record. I bought it the first week it was released in the record department at Sear's at Price's Corner in Wilmington Delaware. I played it a lot that summer and got to know each lyric personally. But I usually skipped over the song When I'm 64. I didn't really relate to it. It sounded kind of old fashioned and very different from the other songs on the album. My mother was 40 that year. My father was 45. So 64 was not something that meant anything to me. It didn't even seem like a distant future. It was just part of the title of a song I skipped over.

I'm 64 today.  It's still not one of my all time favorite songs.  But I do understand it now.  How did Paul McCartney in his 20's understand?  The genius of The Beatles.  Only I didn't quite see the genius of the song at 15.  

8th Grade Art History and Rome 2016

  

Surrounded by at at the Vatican Museum my last day in Rome

My father could sketch a little.  My cousin Junior, his nephew, was an artist who did beautiful water color landscapes. My brother's daughter Amanda draws beautiful portraits.  My sister could draw a little.  My ex wife drew very well.  My daughter Katie is an excellent artist. The Sampson's had artistic genes.  MY MOTHER COULD NOT DRAW.  She had absolutely no talent  at all for drawing.  My Aunt Louise, my mother's sister, could not draw.  My mother's mother, my beloved /grandmother had no artistic talent at all. The Roth's could not draw.   My name may be Sampson but the lack of artistic ability is pure Roth. I can not draw anything.  Even my stick men look like a five year old drew them. 

My two nightmares in school were gym and art class.  I could not catch a soft ball or throw a football.  I was raised in a holiness church and I can you now I experienced sanctification praying to the Holy Spirit to keep that softball away from me in the outfield.  Whoever said you can't pray in school never stood next to me in gym class.  Had it rained every time I prayed for rain on gym day my home town would have been washed down the Chesapeake Bay many years ago.  My junior high and high school gym teachers were good men.  They never made fun of me or made me feel inadequate.  Although I already felt that way they never encouraged it.  I always was graded a B in gym class.  Years later I talked with one of my gym teachers and asked him why he always gave me a B.  Obviously I was not a B student.  He told me "You always came to class.  You wore your gym suit and you took a shower. And you never gave me a problem." 

My seventh grade art teacher was never so kind.  She knew I had no artistic ability.  She knew her assignments were way beyond anything I could do.  And she never gave me a break.  She assigned us paper mache animals.  We had to use coat hangers, newspaper and wheat paste to create animals.  I was in a panic.  Other students were already molding the shapes of horses and dogs and even fish.  I decided an octopus would be easy.  I took four coat hangers and a ball of newspaper and formed my octopus.  Of course an octopus has eight tentacles and mine only had four.  But I knew I could never mange bending eight arms into place.  My teacher never corrected me until I was finished and we had to present our projects to the class.  When I presented mine she asked "What is that?"  I said an octopus.  She said it has four legs and looks like a camera on a tripod.  I just wanted to crawl under the table and hide.  Another time she assigned us to make mosaics. We had to draw a picture and color it with pieces of construction paper mosaic style.  Once again I was in panic mode.  I could never draw a picture much less color it with pieces of colored paper mosaic style.  I ended up drawing a big head much like the heads on my stick figures.  I gave it a large head of hair that flipped up on the ends.  I was making That Girl which was a current hit TV series back in the those days.  When she was grading the finished project once again I was asked "What is this?"  I said "That Girl".  She told me "That is not any girl I have ever seen."  I have a feeling if my gym teacher had been there he would have understood exactly who it was and why I made it and would have graded me his usual B.

My eighth grade art teacher was the best.  She knew not all of us were talented but she assigned projects we could at least try to work on with some success.  She also taught us about art history.  She taught us about the appreciation of art not just the creation of it.  We were a small rural school.  Going to Baltimore City was a big journey for most people in my home town.  Mrs. Smith, the art teacher took us on a field trip to Baltimore to see The Agony and The Ecstasy, the movie about Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel.  I was fascinated with the movie.  I learned about the great artists of the period and got to see their masterpieces.  And this little gay boy also got to see Charlton Heston in a toga  through most of the movie.  I was spellbound.  So there I sat watching every stoke of his hand and every movement of Charlton Heston recreating this great Michelangelo's masterpiece.  We were in the huge and beautiful Mayfair Theater in Baltimore.  Everything about this experience spoke to the little boy from Havre de Grace, Maryland.  Sadly now the Mayfair Theater sits in a shambles in the inner city of Baltimore.  I have taken photos of it on several occasions still remembering the school field trip.

Mayfair Theater, Baltimore 2015I

I made my first visit to Rome in July 2016 fifty years after junior high school art class.  The appreciation for classic art that I learned from Mrs. Smith has remained with me all of these years.  When I travel. I want to experience the food and the art from the location I am visiting.  So Rome as a dream come true.  From the wine, to the pasta, to the Bernini angels I overdosed in Roman culture.  The highlight was on my last day in Rome when I finally go to see the Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo's masterpiece.  The room was crowded.  People were standing shoulder to shoulder with no room to move.  But I didn't mind the crowds.  I was back at the Mayfair Theater and twelve years old again.  I could see how Michelangelo created the scaffolding and climbed to the top of chapel exhausted to finish the finger tip of God touching Adam.  There were signs posted saying no photography.  But there were people snapping cell phone photos all around me.  I didn't want a cell phone photo though.  I wanted a real photo for this special moment.  So I worked my way to the center of the room and lifted my camera up, with no flash, to take my photo.

My photo from the Sistine Chapel - July 2016

I had my moment.  Actually only a second.  I was  tapped on my shoulder by a security guard and was told no photos allowed.  I explained I did not use a flash. He said very abruptly "Turn it off." When he left I turned quickly to sneak a photo of the back wall which had Michelangelo's The Last Judgment.  As I snapped the photo the guard returned and said to me "Turn off NOW."  So I  did.  And I departed the chapel after having a very special moment with the arts.  I can't help but feel my seventh grade art teachers spirit was guiding that guard to me just to harass me once more.  But my eight grade art teacher was there also standing next to me smiling.

My photo of The Last Judgement - July 2016

Empty Tombs and Memorial Arches on South Mountain Maryland

Memorials and monuments fascinate me.  When I travel I take many photos of monuments and memorials.  I learn more history than I could ever learn from a text book by researching the stories behind the monuments I photograph.  Not only do the historical stories fascinate me but I am  also fascinated by the detail on the monuments.  When I photograph a monument I rarely just take one photo of the entire monument.  I also take closeup photos of the details on the monument.  The artist who created the memorial put the minute details there for a specific reason that is lost to casual viewer.  

On South Mountain near Burkittsville, MD there is a very unusual monument dedicated to noncombatant newspaper war correspondents.  Burkittsville is famous today for being the setting for the movie The Blair Witch Project. Historically South Mountain is known as the site of the Battle of Crampton's Gap.  It is one of three gaps on South Mountain where the Battle of South Mountain had been fought between Union and Confederate Forces during the early encounters of the Maryland Campaign.   

The monument was completed in 1896.  It is fifty feet tall and forty feet wide. The Moorish arch at the bottom of the memorial is 16 feet tall.  Above the Moorish arch are three Roman arches.  Each arch is nine feet tall and six feet wide.  The arches represent Description, Depiction, and Photography.  Next to the arches is a zinc copy of Bertel Thorvaldsen's Mercury About To Kill Argos.  This was created by the J.W. Fiske Company. 

Above the arches are two horses heads.  

On either side of the main arch are the heads representing Electricity and Poetry.  Under the heads are the words Speed and Heed. 

The monument is fascinating in itself. It's located on the Appalachian Trail makes it of interest also.  But the story and controversy connected to the monument are what truly make it fascinating to me.  The monument was built by George Alfred Townsend who was a war correspondent and novelist.  He bought the land on South Mountain and built home for himself at the site of the Civil War battle.  He built the arch as a memorial to himself and other war correspondence.  There are 157 names of war correspondences on the memorial.  However the names of those included on the monument have been questioned.  Timothy J. Reese, who is a historian and resident of Burkittsville, Md claims that many names do no deserve to be included, while many names that should be included have been ignored due to Townsend's prejudice towards the Confederate journalists of the time.  I have included an excerpt from one of Ree's articles at the end of this blog. 

Along with his home Townsend also built a tomb for himself on the property.  Ironically the tomb sets empty.  Townsend's wife died and was buried in Philadelphia.  Townsend died April 14, 1915 and was buried next to his wife in Philadelphia.  

Townsend's empty tomb

The story and the monument are both fascinating.  There is a lot written about George Alfred Townsend if you are interested in learning more about the man who created a controversial monument and left an empty tomb.

Below is the excerpt from Timothy J. Reese's 
"The Arch bears 157 names, compiled with unmistakable personal bias. Thirty-three of them cannot be identified. Twenty-two have no business being there at all, they being Townsend's personal friends, large contributors to the project, or persons with whom Townsend wished to ingratiate himself. Names were compiled through an imprecise, word-of-mouth method of random collection conducted by Townsend and his network of veteran news cronies. As a result, many names are absent, incomplete, misspelled, or misstated. Several prominent Union and Confederate journalists do not appear at all, overlooked or, in the latter case, omitted altogether due to Townsend's bitter anti-Southern bias. - See more at: http://historynewsnetwork.org/article/1711#sthash.tc05ZDMw.d

Information from the Reese's article was taken from this link.    All photographs included in this blog are my personal photos.

http://historynewsnetwork.org/article/1711

16 Tons On A Rooftop in Cascais, Portugal - 16 Toneladas - Noriel Vilela

My father was not musical.  Not even a little bit.  He could not carry a tune.  He would sing in the car sometimes.  It was usually some old country song.  It did not matter what the song was because everything Dad sang sounded the same.  Dad was a monotone.  But he loved to hear Tennessee Ernie Ford sing.  Dad never bought music.  I don't think he ever entered a record store.  But he did own some Tennessee Ernie Ford albums.  Now my Dad was not a church goer either.  But he loved to hear Tennessee Ernie Ford sing gospel music.  He would ask me to put on his Ernie Ford gospel album and he would sing along in his monotone.  He would sing along to His Eye Is On The Sparrow and How Great Though Art with Ernie.  Both songs sounded the same when Dad sang them but that didn't matter.


Tennessee Ernie Ford had a big hit record in 1955.  It was called 16 Tons.  Anyone who grew up in the 1950's and 1960's will recognize this record just listening to the first few notes.  There is a flute playing and then a little bit of snap to the beat and Tennessee with his bass voice starts to sing.  The song is about coal mining and the great depression.  My father liked this song a lot.  He would sing it in the car and try to do Ernie Ford's deep bass voice.  It still sounded like Dad's monotone voice but you could tell the sound meant something to him.  Growing up during the depression I am sure the lyrics meant a lot to him.


"You load sixteen tons, what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt"


Mark and I went to Portugal in the spring of 2015. It was our second trip to Portugal and our second time to stay in the ocean front city of Cascais. Cascais is a beautiful small resort town with many small bars and restaurants. We stayed at an ocean front hotel named Hotel Baia. The hotel had a sign in the lobby saying there would be a DJ on the rooftop lounge on the weekend. This sounded like the perfect way to spend an evening and watch the sunset. So we found our way to the rooftop bar.

The view was beautiful The drinks were cold and comforting. It was a wonderful way to end a busy day of walking in the heat.

I decided a strawberry daiquiri would be a great choice for my cocktail. Something about the ocean breeze and the cold strawberry drink appealed to me. Mark decided to have one also. We sat down in two reclining deck chairs and waited or the D.J. to start playing his music. Then out of nowhere I heard that opening flute introduction that was unmistakably the opening notes to the song 16 Tons. I thought for a second it was the daiquiri going to my head. But no. It was definitely the opening to 16 Tons. For a moment I immediately thought of my Dad and how he loved to sing that song. Then I was suddenly slapped with reality. I was on a rooftop in Cascais Portugal. I was not at home listening to some old country radio station. And this was not Tennessee Ernie Ford singing. It was an upbeat dance version with some deep voiced man singing in Portuguese. Mark asked me "What is that song? It's so familiar." Then he too realized it was 16 Tons.

Suddenly you realize just how small the world really is. I had been to Casais before so the city was familiar to me. I had heard the song 16 Tons many times so it was familiar to me. But it all became very surreal and unfamiliar to see the two being combined together into one memory. Other than going to Italy in World War II my Dad never traveled. But one day in May 2015 on a rooftop in Cascais he was with me once more.


Click on the link at the top of this blog to hear the Portuguese version of 16 Tons Mark and I heard in Cascais. It's fascinating to discover something new but also something very familiar.

Wine Bars and Embassies - Traveling in 2015

I have had several experiences with embassies while traveling.   I try not to involve myself with embassies and to try to stay clear of the proximity if at all possible.  My first experience with an embassy occured in 2001 in Amsterdam,  While not an actual embassy my story involved the American Consulates Office in Amsterdam which is almost an embassy in my thoughts.  I was robbed on the train from Schiphol Airport traveling into the city of Amsterdam.  A group of you gypsy boys ran into the train, grabbed my travel bag and ran out of the door of the train before I was able to catch them.  It all happened very fast and was very scary for me on only my second trip out of the United States.  I was still a novice traveler and still had a lot to learn about dangers while traveling.  The thieves did not get any of value of to them although the items in the bag were of great value to me. They got my passport and my return plane ticket.  I was able to get a replacement plane ticket, at a cost of course.  But I was in a foreign country with no passport which worried me more than the plane ticket.  I had to go to the American Consulates Office to report the loss of my passport and to place application for a replacement.  I had photos made at an office across the street from the consulates office and three days later I had a new passport presented to me.  Again this was at my expense so the theft was costly to me even without them getting any money or credit cards.

New passports outside the gate of the American Consulates Office in Amsterdam

It was an adventure. After returning home the inconvenience and the initial fear were forgotten and I now had an interesting travel story to share.  My second experience with an embassy was a lot more scarier than losing my passport.

Mark and I traveled to Ireland in 2009.  We have a good friend named Holger Haase who lives in Ireland and used to work for a hotel chain there.  He helped us book our hotel with a significant discount in Dublin, which we appreciated very much.  We landed in Dublin and took a taxi to our hotel.  We wanted to immediately get out and start exploring the area around the hotel.  We left the hotel and started to walk towards St. Stephen's Green.  I had just retired in January 2008.  Mark bought me a wonderful digital movie camera for my retirement gift that we could use on our travels.  I was excited about using it for the the first time.  So as we walked from our hotel I took the movie camera and decided to document out first moments in Dublin.  I did not realize our hotel was in the Embassy district. I had just arrived in the city.  As we crossed the street from our hotel and as I recorded our walk I was stopped abruptly by a uniformed security guard.  He demanded my camera and wanted to know why I was making a movie.  I nervously explained I had just arrived and was making a movie of our first walk in Dublin thinking everything would be alright with my explanation.  However the guard became less friendly and demanded my identification.  It seems I had been making a video of the Israeli Embassy.  After a lot of explanations, and providing not only my passport but my drivers license and home address was I released and allowed to continue my journey.  I put the camera away and walked quickly out of the Embassy district before taking out the camera again.

Mark and I have just returned from a wonderful Christmas vacation in Prague and Budapest.  We really enjoyed exploring the Christmas markets, seeing all of the churches and other sights.  Prague and Budapest are two of the more beautiful cities we have visited.  Our first day in Prague we once more became aware of an Embassy in our presence.  We walked from Old Town Square across the Charles Bridge to the Lesser Town area.  Mark wanted to see the Church of Our Lady Victorious where the famous Infant Jesus of Prague is located.  We found the church easily and were able to explore the church and take some photos of the Infant Jesus of Prague Statue.

The Infant Jesus of Prague inside the Church of Our Lady Victorious

We left the church and decided to walk back to the Church of St. Nichols in Lesser Town Square.  On our way we say a small side street that looked interesting.  We decided to walk up the side street and then on to Lesser Town Square.  As we entered the street we saw a sign for small wine bar at the top of the hill.  This caught our attention and became our main focus.  It was cold and we were ready to take a break, have some warm mulled wine and a snack before continuing our walk.  As we walked up the hill a car turned on to the street and proceeded to drive behind us. Suddenly four uniformed men appeared and stopped the car.  We stepped back on the side walk, as we were not sure what was happening but being nosey we wanted to see what was going on.  The guards looked in the trunk of the car, searched through the car, and then checked under with car with mirrors.  We knew something strange was happening but we were not sure what it was.  Another car turned onto the street behind the car being inspected. Once again the guards stopped the car and inspected it also.  Then I noticed a large American flag flying over out heads.  With our sights on the wine bar we did not notice we were walking past the American Embassy.  Travel today is a lot different that it was in 2001 when I was in Amsterdam.  Times have changed.  The Isis attacks in Paris had occurred just a few weeks before out trip to Prague and safety was on mind.  And being near the American Embassy is probably not the safest place to be walking in a foreign country today.  We talked about maybe turning around and avoiding the Embassy area.  And then we looked at the very appealing wine bar just ahead of us at the top of the hill.  We have traveled to dangerous places before.  We have learned to be cautious and be aware of our surroundings.  And we have learned that sometimes taking risks creates the best memories.  So the wine bar won!  It was directly next to the Embassy.  We sat in the very pleasant bar and had some warm mulled wine and a delicious Czech Christmas Cake for a treat while at the same time watching every car turning on the street being examined for bombs.  All in all it was a good choice and the right decision.  The lady serving us was very pleasant and we enjoyed talking with her.  We never mentioned the Embassy or the bomb squad searches and neither did she.  That is life in 2015.

Mark and Larry choosing to enjoy warm mulled wine 

Vinoteka Wine Bar

Seeing Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits In Concert - Two Old Men Shaking Hands

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Two friends of Mark's very kindly gave us two tickets to see Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits in concert.  The concert was at the Ram's Head Tavern in Annapolis, Maryland.  Neither Mark nor his friends knew that this had a very special meaning to me.   Fifty years ago this month I bought my very first record album.   I had bought many singles but at the age of 13 I had never bought an album.  My birthday is in November and I always asked for money instead of gifts for my birthday as a teen.   I received enough money to buy two albums for this birthday.  So what did I buy?  People who know me they will probably guess The Beatles first and then maybe The Rolling Stones second.  And they will be wrong. The first album I bought was The Best of Herman's Hermits.  I still had enough money from my birthday to buy a second album.  For this I chose The Beatles VI.  

I loved these albums.  I played them many many times over and over.  Today Paul McCartney still tours to stadiums filled with fans.  Ringo Starr still tours large concert halls.  Peter Noone is singing at the Rams Head Tavern in Annapolis, Maryland.  Like everyone else time has treated us all differently.

I was a big fan of Herman's Hermits.  They were not as cool as The Beatles or as rough as The Rolling Stones.  But Peter Noone and his band came to my turntable in my room so many times and brought me so much joy.  I never would have thought that fifty years later in another November I would be sitting at a small table right next to stage listening to Peter Noone sing all those familiar songs that  I memorized back in my room as a teen.  I knew Peter was five years older than me.  I learned this fact in Gloria Staver's 16 Magazine back in 1965.

During the concert Peter mentioned his birthday was November 5.  So he had just turned 18 when I bought his greatest hits at age 13.  But tonight we were two old men in a small tavern setting sharing our 63rd or 68th birthdays.  The concert was great fun.  Peter's voice at 68 was actually much better than it had been at 18.  He had fun playing with the audience and making jokes about all the old people in the hall.  I am sure he was amused at all the older ladies in the audience still wearing Herman tee shirts and still acting like giggling school girls. 

He finished the show with a very high energy version of I'm Henry The Eighth I Am.  He had the audience sing along and spell out the H E N R Y for the chorus.  And then it was all over and he prepared to leave the stage.  But as all fans expect the star came back for one last song.  He came back to finish the show with There's A Kind Of Hush.  All the ladies sighed.  All the men clapped.  And this old fan just smiled and was glad to have relived the age thirteen once more for an hour.  As Peter left the stage he passed directly by our table as we were seated right at the very end of stage.  He had walked around the stage waving to the ladies.  He was telling everyone goodbye and then he reached out and shook my hand.  Of course he had no idea that fifty years ago this month I had bought my first album and that it was his album.  But for me it was a great moment.  Fifty years later celebrating our birthdays together in small concert hall. Two old men shaking hands. Take that Paul McCartney.  As much as I love The Beatles this could never have happened at one of your stadium concerts.  And so I am kind of glad now that fifty years ago I bought Peter's album first.  

Strong Women With No Apologizes

My Aunt Louisa Cullum - a strong and proud factoy worker

My good friend Judy Keithly Hopps just sent out a message on Facebook about the passing of her mother  Anna Marguerite Keithley.  Anna was a strong woman.  She lived in a time when strong women were not always appreciated. They were sometimes just ignored or forgotten.  I have so many memories of her and her quiet spirit.  She was never outspoken.  She just lived her live as best as she could. She raised three children on her own.  This was during the Ozzie and Harriet years when we watched ideal families on TV and when the image was so distorted that there was no reality for us to see.  But we all looked for that reality and wondered why we were different.  We weren't different.  The image was different and wrong.  

Anna Marguerite Keithly along with my Aunt Louisa Cullum (in the photo above) both worked in a shoe factory that was little more than a sweat shop.  They worked for minimum wages and worked hard.  They did not expect a hand out or a free meal.  They worked hard to pay their rent and put food on the table.  My Aunt was a divorced woman with no children.  She lived with her mother for the majority of her live.  She worked extremely hard cementing counters on the back of three buckle arctic boots that the factory had contracted to make for the U.S. military.  She worked in an factory with no air conditioning putting steaming hot cement on the back of the boots where she would place the back support called a counter.  The conveyor belt never stopped running and the were forced to keep up with production.  Yes it was funny watching Lucy eating chocolates on a conveyor belt on I Love Lucy.  It was not so funny watching women burn themselves from the hot glue and being afraid to stop the conveyor belt.  

Anna Keithley had no time to complain on the job either.  Like my Aunt she also could not stop the conveyor belt.  She had a family to feed.  She had rent to pay.  She had responsibilities that she never took lightly.  I mourn with my friend Judy today for her loss.   And I admire people like Anna Keithley and my Aunt Louisa Cullum. They would never meet societies norm today.  They did not have college educations.  Hell my Aunt did not have a high school education.  And they did jobs then that a lot of  people would not do today.  Those jobs are now out sourced to foreign countries where strong women are working for slave wages because they have responsibilities.  Look at the labels on your clothing and shoes and think of the people who make them.  They deserve our highest respect.  

Rest in peace Anna. I plan to attend your memorial service on Friday.  I am sure my Aunt Louisa and the other ladies and men who worked in that shoe factory have already greeted you in Heaven.