Vibraphonists Joe Locke, left, and Warren Wolf, accompanied by bassist Richie Goods. Photo (cc) 2025 by Dan Kennedy.
We recently decided to make a return trip to the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown after a too-brief visit in August. While we were looking for other things to do, we noticed that the museum was hosting a jazz combo called Dueling Vibes on Saturday evening.
What we didn’t realize was that we were going to see (and hear) three world-class musicians — vibraphonists Warren Wolf and Joe Locke, accompanied by Richie Goods on upright and electric bass. Wolf and Locke came out early to talk with the audience for a half hour, then three of them returned to wow us for 90 minutes.
These guys were terrific, performing everything from jazz standards to some Tina Marie funk. The two-vibes lineup was varied occasionally with Locke and then Wolfe moving to piano, but mainly it was all mallets, all the time, with some pieces played at lightning speed. I am not a vibes aficionado, so I have to admit that Wolf and Locke were new to me. But their bios show that they are at the top of the heap.
The show was hosted by Jazz in the Berkshires, and it turned out to be the unexpected highlight of our trip.
Jill Lepore at the 2023 Kentucky Author Forum. Photo (cc) by uoflphoto3.
Over the weekend I finished the audio version of Jill Lepore’s monumental survey of American history, “These Truths,” published in 2018. At 960 pages or, in my case, 29 hours, the book is a major commitment, but it’s well worth it.
That said, one thing I learned was that I already knew a lot about American history, so much of “These Truths” was familiar to me. There’s nothing startlingly revisionistic about it, but it nevertheless works as a skillfully executed and gracefully written overview of the past 500 years, from Columbus to Trump. I especially appreciated her extensive treatment of Black and women’s history.
Not Dead Yet “is a national, grassroots disability rights group that opposes legalization of assisted suicide and euthanasia as deadly forms of discrimination.”
Jeff Jacoby has a sharp column up at The Boston Globe on the dangers of physician-assisted suicide, writing that “a decent society does not enlist physicians to end lives; it strives to relieve suffering while upholding life’s inestimable worth.”
I wrote about the same topic a couple of weeks ago in my supporters newsletter. Like Jeff, I was motivated by a deep investigation published by The Atlantic (gift link). Here’s what I had to say:
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At some point, the Massachusetts Legislature is expected to take up the matter of physician-assisted suicide, and when that time comes, I intend to pull together something more coherent than today’s newsletter.
Suffice it to say that I am extremely skeptical, and I don’t like efforts to relabel it as “medical aid in dying,” a euphemism piled on top of a euphemism in an attempt to play down the reality. As an auxiliary member of the disability community, I’m deeply concerned that physician-assisted suicide could be a way of encouraging people to kill themselves as a way of saving money for the health-care system. As the disability-rights organization Not Dead Yet puts it, “assisted suicide and euthanasia” should be regarded as “deadly forms of discrimination.”
What prompts today’s essay is an article in The Atlantic by Elaina Plott Calabro on Canada’s experience with physician-assisted suicide. If you are interested in this issue at all, then I urge you to read it in full. Calabro is rigorously fair, even going along with Canada’s absurd acronym for medical aid in dying, MAID, as though a kindly woman was going to enter your room and blissfully whisk you off to another dimension.
But what comes through is that a system that began with allowing terminally ill people in their final days of life to opt out of the pain and suffering they were experiencing has devolved into something entirely different, with people choosing to die because they are depressed, because they’re burdened with high medical bills, or just because the Canadian law places patient autonomy ahead of all other values. Calabro writes:
Nine years after the legalization of assisted death, Canada’s leaders seem to regard MAID from a strange, almost anthropological remove: as if the future of euthanasia is no more within their control than the laws of physics; as if continued expansion is not a reality the government is choosing so much as conceding. This is the story of an ideology in motion, of what happens when a nation enshrines a right before reckoning with the totality of its logic. If autonomy in death is sacrosanct, is there anyone who shouldn’t be helped to die?
Physician-assisted suicide rears its head in Massachusetts every so often. The Boston Globe has editorialized in favor of it, and in 2024 was embarrassed when it was revealed that staff member Kevin Cullen had actually signed papers to hasten the death of a woman whose journey he was chronicling. If we begin moving toward legalization here, I’ll have more to say. At the very least, we need stringent protections to make sure that this extraordinary remedy is reserved for extraordinary circumstances. Then again, the Canadian example shows that once physician-assisted suicide is normalized, then protections that had been put in place quickly fade away.
Walt Disney World. 2023 public domain photo by Tech. Sgt. Andrew Burdette.
The most profoundly depressing piece of journalism I engaged with last week wasn’t about war, public health or the rise of authoritarianism. It was about Disney World — or, rather, what Disney World says about how our culture has split in two, one for the shrinking middle class, the other for the rich.
Daniel Currell and photographer Paola Chapdelaine put together an opinion piece for The New York Times (gift link) that told the story of Scarlett Cressel, a 60-year-old disabled school-bus driver from Virginia who saved for years so that she and her family could visit the resort.
What they encountered was a two-tier system that Disney and other corporations have been embracing for many years, and that has been accelerating since the COVID pandemic began to ease. You have to pay massive fees to avoid standing in line for top attractions. You have to stay at an expensive Disney hotel or other Disney-owned accommodations even to get access to the best deals.
Cressel and her family couldn’t afford any of that. Essentially Disney has morphed into a playground for the wealthy, with the masses left to press their faces up against the window to see what’s going on inside. Currell writes:
For most of the park’s history, Disney was priced to welcome people across the income spectrum, embracing the motto “Everyone is a V.I.P.” In doing so, it created a shared American culture by providing the same experience to every guest. The family that pulled up in a new Cadillac stood in the same lines, ate the same food and rode the same rides as the family that arrived in a used Chevy. Back then, America’s large and thriving middle class was the focus of most companies’ efforts and firmly in the driver’s seat.
That middle class has so eroded in size and in purchasing power — and the wealth of our top earners has so exploded — that America’s most important market today is its affluent. As more companies tailor their offerings to the top, the experiences we once shared are increasingly differentiated by how much we have.
Cressel is a perpetually optimistic sort. By the end of the piece, she pronounces herself pleased with her trip, despite the restrictions and indignities she encountered, and is already planning her next visit.
What really drove home the inequities that Disney now encourages, though, was the very different experience of Shawn Conahan, an affluent tech executive from California who took his 13-year-old daughter to Disney World, paying hundreds of extra dollars to skip lines and get into attractions that ordinary people might not have even been able to access.
I found myself feeling surprisingly emotional, not resenting the easy access that Conahan and his daughter enjoyed (“the best day ever,” she said) but, rather, resenting how the Disney experience has deteriorated from what it used to be. I’ll close with a couple of personal anecdotes.
When our two kids were younger, we were able to visit Disney World three times. We couldn’t afford it, but my in-laws belonged to a Disney vacation club, and we were able to stay for free at a time-share that was not only lovely but that gave us access to some of the perks that Conahan and his daughter were able to enjoy and that Cressel couldn’t. This was in the late 1990s and early ’00s, so the disparity wasn’t as great as it is today. Still, our kids were incredibly lucky to be able to enjoy that kind of access.
Then, two years ago, my now-adult daughter and I visited Graceland. She’d always been a huge Elvis Presley fan, and she’d saved for several years in order to be able to pay her way. For the Graceland tour, I encouraged her to pay for premium access, figuring this would be her one and only trip. I’m glad we did. Among other things, we were able to get into a special museum where Elvis’ sequined jackets and boots were kept. She was smitten, and it didn’t seem unfair to pay more in order to get more.
While we were walking the grounds, though, several other tourists saw us and joined our group. Our guide sternly told them to leave because we had paid extra for our tour and they were part of the unwashed masses. I was embarrassed and appalled.
But this is where we are at in 2025. Increasingly, folks in the shrinking middle class are being shut out of experiences that we once took for granted as part of our common culture. It’s no wonder that we’ve become so angry and resentful. You might even say that it’s one of the ingredients that has helped fuel the rise of authoritarianism.
I’m late to this, so you may have seen it already. I finally got around to watching “The Greatest Night in Pop” (here’s the trailer) on Netflix, and it’s terrific. It’s about the making of “We Are the World,” the 1985 song and video with an all-star cast that raised more than $60 million for famine relief in Africa.
If you always thought the song was a bit treacly, well, blame Stevie Wonder. He was supposed to be involved in writing it, but no one could find him, leaving songwriting duties to Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie. And as you may have heard, there’s a scene of Stevie showing Bob Dylan how to sing his part — employing a dead-on Dylan imitation — that has to be seen to be appreciated.
The interviews with Ritchie, Cyndi Lauper, Bruce Springsteen, Sheila E. and Huey Lewis are especially insightful. That the entire project came together in one night is a testament to the professionalism of everyone involved, especially Ritchie and Quincy Jones, who was involved from the start and oversaw the whole thing. Well worth your time.
Famine in Africa continues — in Sudan and in Gaza, which is right at the nexus of Africa and the Middle East. “The Greatest Night in Pop” shouldn’t be just an exercise in nostalgia. It should be a call to generosity.
My daughter, Becky, and I had intended to visit the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis last August the day after a trip to Graceland. A massive thunderstorm knocked out power to many thousands of customers, though, and the museum was shut down. Still, you could walk around the outside of the Lorraine Motel where the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. fell victim to an assassin’s bullet. It was and is a somber reminder of the racism and violence that shook our country 55 years ago, and that are with us still.
Today we mark Dr. King’s 95th birthday, and it’s hard to know what he would think if he were still with us. Ten years ago, Barack Obama was beginning his second term, and we smugly told ourselves that the worst was receding into history. Now it seems like we’re moving backwards, with Donald Trump, an authoritarian and a white nationalist, possibly on the verge of returning to power. King’s hope for a more just and equitable society remains just that — a hope. What can we do to turn that hope into reality?
The best story I’m likely to read all day appears, oddly enough, in The New York Times’ Sunday real estate section. It’s about Corona, a neighborhood in Queens where I’ve never been that was home to some of the finest jazz musicians of the bebop era. In the middle of all this was Dizzy Gillespie, who bought a home there in 1953. Louis Armstrong, whose peak years predated Gillespie’s, lived there as well, and his song “What a Wonderful World” was a tribute to that neighborhood.
The story, by Mia Jackson, is a great read. But if you do nothing else, click and look at the photo of Ella Fitzgerald and Gillespie performing in 1947, and especially Gillespie’s face, a tremendously moving combination of love and reverence (same thing, I suppose). It’s because of that photo that I’m posting a free link.
My Northeastern classmate and 1970s Northeastern News stalwart Marc Myers has written a wonderful essay for The Wall Street Journal about Paul McCartney’s album “Band on the Run,” which came out 50 years ago in December. I always thought of it as the last Beatles album, and the second best of the band’s solo albums after George Harrison’s “All Things Must Pass.” This is a free link.
Happy New Year! Today is the day that a number of creative works enter the public domain — including “Steamboat Willie,” the first film starring Mickey Mouse. Enjoy!
Common fallacy here by Josh Marshall about Keith Richards, who turns 80 today. While it may be true that Keith can’t play like Mick Taylor, it’s also true that Taylor can’t play like Richards. Nor can anyone else. Taylor is a very good blues guitarist, but there are hundreds just like him. Richards literally invented modern rock guitar, building on Chuck Berry to create something entirely unique. Happy birthday, Keith! Here’s “Take It So Hard,” maybe the best song of Richards’ abbreviated solo career.
