“Astral Weeks” Given New Life

When Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” was released more than forty years ago, it was an instant classic, despite its modest sales at the time. Its seamless blending of folk, jazz and Celtic sounds and stream-of-consciousness poetry was unlike anything else recorded before or since, and has become a cherished favorite of Morrison fans. Recently, he decided to perform and record this set of songs the way he has always heard them, with an expanded sound and the electricity generated by a live performance, aided by the insight gained through four decades as an artist. On the first of two nights at Berkeley’s Greek Theater, “Astral Weeks” and a generous helping of his best work was recast in shimmering beauty by a mature artist at the peak of his powers.

Backed by more than a dozen musicians and singers, including a string section, Morrison spent the first hour digging into his back catalog with vigor and a strong, supple voice. A squat figure in a charcoal suit, fedora and sunglasses, he seemed to actually enjoy himself, as his voice dived and swooped over the lush sound provided by the ensemble. Early on, he got a cheer from the crowd during “And It Stoned Me” with the line “Hope it don’t rain all day” as the day’s soggy weather had given way to a miraculously dry evening. He mixed old classics with more recent material, following a harmonica-driven “Baby Please Don’t Go” with a lovely, country-flavored “Magic Time.” Never one for patter between songs, he limited himself to the title of the next song, and the show zipped along with scarcely a second of down time.

He introduced a heartfelt “Have I Told You Lately” with a sax solo…he played five different instruments very capably…and draped “Wild Night” in inventive phrasing that gave the classic tune new life. All night, he challenged himself to bring new shadings to familiar songs to great effect, his rhythmic repetition of lyrics and playing with time demonstrating his signature style as no one else can. Playful scatting decorated an extended and wonderful “It’s All in the Game” and an incandescent version of “Moondance” swung like crazy, featuring horn charts that gave it a big-band feeling. At the end of the first set, he engaged in a spirited vocal exchange with his sax/flute player, who echoed Van’s phrases almost as they were delivered, cascading on top of each other in a rousing climax as the band broke for intermission to a standing ovation.

When they returned, they launched into the title track from “Astral Weeks,” the familiar jazzy groove and sparse instrumentation augmented by strings, but evoking the 1968 original without trying for a note-for-note reproduction. It was apparent that Van wanted the songs to live in the present, as he stretched them out, improvising new parts and giving the 40-year-old songs a new sheen while preserving their trancelike, dreamy quality. The rhythmic support, provided by a drummer and a percussionist, was subtle to the point of being barely audible, while a trio of acoustic guitars, stand-up bass and flute provided the earthy, woody sound that made the original album so unique, and such a departure from anything else that had come before. As the title song built, a tremulous violin added a jolt of texture and gave it an even jammier feel than the original.

Kicking off “Sweet Thing” with forceful strumming on a white acoustic guitar, he tore into the song, filling the amphitheater with his strong, assured vocals. Lyrical violin solos gave the music a chamber vibe, and the simple two-chord progression provided a sturdy platform for spontaneous bursts of vocal and instrumental pyrotechnics. The jazzy, 6/8 tempo of “Cyprus Avenue” gave way to the minor-chord “The Way Young Lovers Do,” given an emotional reading punctuated by a mariachi-flavored trumpet. Reaching a high point with “Ballerina,” Morrison delivered lyrics such as “the show must go on” as if he was describing his own performance, fervently singing and scatting until it sounded as though he was speaking in tongues. He closed the album with “Slim Slow Slider,” extending its memorable lyric twist of “the love that loves to love” for what seemed like several minutes.

After drawing the album’s performance to a close, he brought the band back up for a rousing “Hymns to the Silence” followed by a harmonica-fueled blues rave-up that morphed into the instantly recognizable “Gloria,” which built to epic proportions as Van went into his lower register to growl John Lee Hooker-style phrases that surely were inspired by the version he recorded with the blues great. It seemed only fitting that, on an evening where Morrison was paying homage to his own past, he went back further to acknowledge an even earlier influence.

The concert was a satisfying and masterful new take on Morrison’s classic songs, revealing a wealth of new details while preserving the essential qualities that made them so uniquely appealing in 1968. And to see him having such a good time in the process was an unexpected delight that sent everyone out into the evening sharing the warm glow of a memorable night.

Gratitude

A dear friend of mine, Nina Lesowitz, is putting together a book on the subject of Gratitude. She invited me to write a few words, and after doing so, realized that it was a logical summary of the series of journal entries I had logged after my brain tumor diagnosis of six years ago. I've decided to share it with you here:



The neurologist met my eyes with a neutral gaze, betraying no emotions, as she told me I had six months to live, and it was time to get my affairs in order. I had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor.

“What are the chances of my making a full recovery?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t think in terms of a full recovery,” she replied, and at that moment, the rest of my life began.

That was more than six years ago. Since my return to health, I feel that I have been living in a state of grace, having been given the gift of a second chance at life.

After my diagnosis, I remember feeling an unexpected calm, accepting my fate without fear, anger or resentment. As I contemplated the end of life as I knew it, I found enjoyment in things I formerly took for granted…a soak in the pool on a warm day, a walk in nearby China Camp Park…and began to feel a profound gratitude for each new day that I had the privilege to experience. I underwent surgery, radiation and chemotherapy, and dedicated myself to finding out as much as I could about my condition and my options for treatment. Friends and relatives sent healing energy and set up prayer circles.

After surgery and each course of treatment, the frequency of seizures would decrease, only to gradually increase as the tumor returned. By this time I had also brought some alternative therapies into my treatment, but my condition failed to improve. I decided to fulfill a lifelong dream to record a CD of original songs, and a wonderful friend, Joe Paulino, donated his recording studio, engineering and drumming talents, and brought together a circle of musician friends who rallied around me and made it happen. I will forever be indebted to their generosity…they gave me something to be grateful for at a time that offered scant encouragement otherwise.

Then I was referred to a local Chi Gung healer named Donald Rubbo. The first time I worked with him, I experienced a seizure, which he felt was a positive sign that the practice was addressing the source of them. He taught me a daily meditation and movement practice, and arranged to have a monastery in Tibet chant for my well-being. On the day of the chanting, I was instructed to keep my mind free of negative thoughts, and I kept myself in a positive place for the entire day. As I fell asleep that night, I felt a pleasurable tingling sensation engulf my whole body.

At this point, I had been having seizures almost daily. For five days after the chanting, I was seizure-free, and I felt my energy level increasing. I was especially grateful to be able to celebrate my 25th wedding anniversary nine months after my diagnosis. I began to take long walks, and soon was able to return to running. A special cancer-screening blood test indicated that my body was successfully fighting off the tumor, and an MRI revealed that the tumor was shrinking. I continued working with Rubbo and my condition steadily improved as my seizures became less frequent. My dog, which had been given four months to live due to bone cancer in her jaw, began to accompany me in my practice and she began to improve as well. My feelings of gratitude began to change from appreciating the time I had left to appreciating my return to health, and I seemed to have thousands of people to thank for my good fortune, especially my wife, Ellen, whose unwavering love and support guided my passage.

After six months without a seizure, I was again able to drive, and felt a surge of gratitude for something I had always taken for granted. The next scheduled MRI confirmed that the tumor had stabilized and the seizures that accompanied it were now a thing of the past. Not only was I living on borrowed time, I was fortunate to enjoy the quality of life I had before my diagnosis, except that the enjoyment went far deeper than before. I had been given back my life with the added gifts of gratitude and perspective.

In the ensuing five years, I am grateful for so many things I might not have had the chance to experience…participating in marathons for the National Brain Tumor Foundation, five more years with our beloved dog, my children’s graduations and a 30th anniversary spent in Africa…and for the smallest of things. I look for ways to express my gratitude, from performing benefit shows for Bread and Roses to meditating on Tibetan chants that seek to alleviate suffering in the world. I will often give my prayer wheel a few spins as I think about someone challenged by their health. Every breath, every moment is like a tiny gift, and I try to honor those gifts by never forgetting how fortunate and grateful I am to be alive, and to realize how precious a gift life really is.

A Memorable Bread and Roses Show

From time to time, I volunteer my services to Bread and Roses, a wonderful organization that brings live music to audiences that lack access to it, and can be enriched by the experience. I have performed both by myself and with others to various residential treatment programs in the Bay Area, and it was my privilege to perform recently for Center Point, a drug rehab facility in San Rafael. The audience was large for this type of show, and very enthusiastic. I brought my guitar and songbook to perform a mix of originals and covers, and was intrigued when one of the audience asked if he could sit in. After hearing several other audience members vouch for his ability, I thought, "why not" and encouraged him to get his guitar. He turned out to be both a great player and an intuitive follower, and he added some harmony vocals and very nice solos to a number of songs. Turns out he used to play with Bonnie Raitt.

The show and the vibe were really amazing. I'll let this write-up from Bread and Roses tell the story...

Of the many locations I have hosted B&R performances, Center Point has always been my favorite because of the genuine responsiveness of the audience. Last night was no exception and, in fact, exceeded that of previous visits. From the moment Dan started with Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind" followed by a song he wrote called "SUV" the audience was into the performance with finger-snapping and toe tapping. Within a few numbers, this led to audience participation sing-along on the more familiar covers and the choruses of Dan's own songs.

Several numbers into the performance, a member of the audience, Charlie, volunteered to get his guitar and play backup with Dan. While there might have been some initial reluctance, the audience seemed to feel confident that Dan would not be sorry if he accepted the offer. As it turned out, Charlie added a dimension to the performance through his skillful guitar playing, which even lead to playing a solo on each number, by providing the Center Point clients with an investment in the show through the participation of one of their own.

At the end, the audience gave Dan and Charlie a long standing ovation after which many in the group came up to personally thank both Dan and B&R (through me) for the wonderful show.

Dec. 7, 2008

Last night, my ‘60s band The Vanilla Extract played one of the most enjoyable shows in our long and semi-illustrious career.

It was a 60th birthday for guitarist Michael Wood’s friend and neighbor, Helen, who lives a few doors away from him on San Francisco’s Downey Street in the Haight-Ashbury…an intimate, two-blocks-long street who hosts an annual Block Party and Barbecue which has invited us to perform for the last four years. In September, after another afternoon of classic rock at the Block Party, Helen approached us about performing at an upcoming birthday party, to which we readily agreed. Thus it was that we pulled up to the Bay View Boat Club in the shadow of San Francisco’s AT&T Park for a night of holiday and birthday cheer.

We had recently purchased a new set of floor monitor speakers, and when we arrived at the club to set up, it was apparent that they would take up about 20% of the available floor space in the corner where the band was to set up. However, we managed to fit everything into place, and after moving a good part of our equipment aside to allow drummer Doug Kassel access to his place behind the kit, we were ready to go.


The Bay View Boat Club is a small, picturesque waterfront joint with a horseshoe-shaped bar backed by a patio and barbecue on the water, and a pool table in an adjoining room. The ceiling is decorated with hundreds of boating flags and the walls display a combination of memorabilia and club information. It’s ambiance is sort of old-time San Francisco without being stuffy…a very comfortable room in which to play. They did, however, request that we sign in and display a sticker affirming our status as a guest sponsored by a member, who in this case was a very nice guy named Ansel, who had attended the San Francisco Art Institute about the same time as Ellen.

After a sound check and a short interlude, we kicked off with our traditional “Magic Carpet Ride.” As our first set progressed, a steady stream of partygoers began to fill the place, and our music grew louder and more energetic, as the crowd’s energy encouraged us to rock out. Helen was joined by several friends who became fixtures on the dance floor, immediately in front of us.

We finished the set with a rousing version of “White Room” and grabbed some food that had been spread out on the patio, and squeezed into position to start the second set. Now fully warmed up, we settled into our grooves and let the music flow through us as the hanging light fixtures seemed to sway back and forth to the music as the floor became more crowded. Near the end of the set, a woman dressed as one of Santa’s elves appeared and singlehandedly doubled the energy in the room.

The second set found us hitting our stride and the crowd filled the dance area between us and the bar. Things were going well despite the cramped quarters, and we were having a great time. We took a bit longer of a break before the last set, as we wanted to play up to midnight. We blasted through our twelve planned songs and the crowd enthusiastically demanded more, and as we had a half-dozen or so alternate songs, launched our encore with “For Your Love” and a reprise of our soundcheck, “Nowhere Man.”

The crowd roared its approval, clearly wanting more, so we ran through several songs we hadn’t played in months: “Tired of Waiting,” “Things We Said Today” and an epic “Shapes of Things.” Thinking we had exhausted our repertoire, we said good night and started to take off our guitars, but again the crowd encouraged us to continue. I had the feeling that we could pull off “Honky Tonk Women” although we had never played it live, or possibly even in practice in this decade, but Rob Sherman was up to the task and led us through a solid rendition as the crowd continued dancing and screaming.

His voice having run out of gas, Rob let it be known that he was done singing, but the crowd still wanted more. I dusted off a couple of Dylan tunes which I sing, “Mr. Tambourine Man” and “Like a Rolling Stone,” thinking that the latter would take a lot of time, which it did, the audience gleefully singing along with the chorus. With nothing left to play, we gratefully thanked the still-screaming audience, who at last allowed us to end the set and take off our instruments. With the last notes still swirling about, we got ourselves a few well-deserved beverages and basked in the glow of one of our more memorable shows ever.

Maasai Tribesmen For Obama

A Maasai village, in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro in western Kenya, seemed like an unlikely place to find ourselves discussing the upcoming presidential election. On a recent trip to Africa, we were given the opportunity to meet the inhabitants of a Maasai village in Kenya’s Amboseli National Park, and learn about their lifestyle. But after discovering that we were from the United States, everyone in the village wanted to know: were we Democrats and were we voting for Obama?

Their keen interest in our election was an indication of a culture in transition. For hundreds of years, the Maasai have been semi-nomadic tribes, relying on livestock and shelters built from sticks and mud, relatively isolated from the influence of the western world. They are fiercely proud of their traditional lifestyle, but are also aware of the benefits that tourist dollars can bring, from freshwater wells to schools and bathrooms. With global warming, as evidenced by the disappearing snow on Kilimanjaro, access to water is more vital than ever, and the education of Maasai children is preparing them for the modern world, allowing them to gain employment outside the village while providing funds to help improve the villagers’ lives yet still preserve their traditions. Tourism has thus become an essential part of Maasai life, and they go to great lengths to share their way of life and make their guests feel welcome.

Our safari guide, Divan, had arranged for our visit after collecting $30 per person (allowing us to take as many photos as we wanted) and we were met by a delegation of colorfully-dressed men and women. A row of women in bright sarongs and festive ornamental beadwork sang a traditional welcoming song with sweet call-and-response harmonies. The men engaged in the adumu, or “jumping dance.” They invited me to jump with them, pretending not to notice that I attained relatively modest heights. We were introduced to our host, Wilson…a tall, articulate man who was soon to succeed his 92-year-old father as Chief. Soon we were escorted through a gap in the vast circular fence of thorn acacia that protects the village and its livestock from predators.

Several dozen podlike huts were arranged on the perimeter of the village, while the dusty center was mostly reserved for the livestock at night. During the day, small groups of men played mancala, a counting game with beads or stones. A medicine man’s apprentice explained the role of various herbs, including one said to boost virility and another designed to suppress the growth of a fetus late in pregnancy (to reduce the likelihood of complications in childbirth) that seems to have had no ill effects on the tall populace. Another villager lit a small fire without matches, using a method nearly identical to that of Native Americans.

Things got really interesting when Wilson invited us into his living quarters. After stooping to enter through a small door, we found ourselves in near total darkness. Only a couple of small openings near the ceiling let in any light, and it took a minute for our eyes to adjust. In the single room were only a few stones on the floor that formed a cooking area, and several platforms of cowhide stretched over a framework of sticks against the wall that served as beds. Wilson, his regal form silhouetted against the darkness, talked about the traditional Maasai diet of meat, milk and blood (supplemented more recently with grains, fruit and vegetables) and the polygamous family structure (the wives don’t mind as it allows them to share household duties). Emerging from his hut, I couldn’t help but notice other huts with padlocks on the door…a sign that modern life and its trappings was making inroads against the traditional no-frills lifestyle on display in Wilson’s hut.

A display of native crafts turned out to be more of an opportunity to purchase them than anything else, and the earnest friendliness of the villagers made it hard to refrain. Wilson, for his part, tried to insure that we bought something from each of his many wives, lest any of them feel left out. “Look! I made this myself!” they would exclaim as we examined a carved zebra or elephant, hoping we weren’t aware that they had no woodcarving tools or tradition. The beadwork was another story, as intricate wedding necklaces fashioned from thousands of primary-colored beads adorned many of the exhibitors as testament to their well-developed skill. All told, there were dozens of women with blankets strewn with bracelets, carved animals and beaded baskets. In the end, we wound up with a fairly sizable collection of souvenirs as Wilson proudly pointed out a new schoolhouse a few hundred yards outside the village and described the new well that saved a six-mile trip to the previous watering hole. Despite the knowledge that some of our items may have come from an export shop in Nairobi, it felt as though our contribution to the Maasai economy was being well spent.

As Wilson bade us farewell, we were reminded to vote for Obama, the son of a Kenyan, who enjoys the near-unanimous support of not only the Maasai, but the entire country. I assured him that we would, although it made me wonder whether they would have treated us any differently had we voiced a preference for McCain. As long as we were willing to buy something from each of Wilson’s wives, probably not.

The massive buffalo stared us down, his angry eyes and horns picking up the light from the Masai escort’s flashlight. “Yi-yi-yi!” shouted the Masai, shaking his flashlight violently. The buffalo stood motionless. “Yi-yi-yi!” The buffalo lunged in our direction and stopped. Again, the Masai shouted and waved his flashlight, and this time the buffalo sauntered off into the night, and we were able to safely walk the short distance to our room at the Ngorongoro Crater Lodge.

During our stay at four different safari lodges in Kenya and Tanzania, it was standard practice to provide a Masai tribesman, equipped with a flashlight and a spear, to escort guests to and from their rooms during darkness for their safety. In seven previous nights, we had not seen anything larger than a lizard, and the escort seemed like a quaint ritual we were happy to entertain. This time, however, the need for an escort had become clear…we were in the animal’s domain, and had to behave accordingly.

Our African adventure really began outside of Nairobi, at an amazing place called the Giraffe Manor.,,a storybook stone lodge where a handful of giraffe nonchalantly strode about the grounds. A short flight the next day delivered us to the Satao Elerai Lodge, in Kenya’s Amboseli Park, at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro. A sturdy-looking guide, Divan, loaded our bags into a Land Cruiser. As we got farther from the landing strip, large groups of Thompson’s Gazelles, wildebeest and zebra could be seen, as well as groups of hippos and elephants. We were able to get within a few yards of a small pride of lions, resting after a kill as unconcerned prey grazed nearby. They were magnificent, even in repose.

As darkness fell, we reached the lodge, a collection of wood and stucco huts fashioned imaginatively out of twisting branches and local stone. The accommodations were quite cozy, and we were served a delicious dinner next to our own portable fireplace. The next morning, we awoke to see Mt. Kilimanjaro gloriously lit by the rising sun, and took breakfast on a lovely view deck. The staff was refreshingly polite and friendly…greeting us with a cheery “Jambo” (hello) whenever we passed. These qualities would be consistent everywhere we went. Out into the bush, we saw new sights…beautiful Crown Cranes, a frolicking troop of baboons, an assortment of ostrich, and then a fantastic confluence of elephant herds around our vehicle. Three groups of perhaps 20 elephants of all sizes passed on either side of us on their way to a watering hole, almost close enough to touch. A truly amazing moment.

After lunch, we visited a Maasai village. They welcomed us with a performance of singing and jumping. Wilson, our host, invited us into his house, a dark two-room mud hut with a few tiny openings, and only the simplest of furnishings…a few stones for cooking and two beds of cowhide stretched over a wood frame. We saw a demonstration of native medicinal herbs and firestarting. They all were pleased to hear that we planned to vote for Obama. Late in the afternoon, we passed a couple of lions peacefully sleeping on the road, and a huge mamba snake on the road. Soon we were back at the lodge for dinner and drinks around a roaring fire.

En route to Tanzania’s game preserves we stopped for a night at the Arusha Coffee Lodge, an elegant inn set in the middle of a coffee plantation. We enjoyed a superb dinner and restful night. The next morning, we were off to Grumeti River Camp. We hooked up with our new guide, Waziri, and checked into our room, a giant thatched A-frame covering a tent facing the river and its noisy resident hippo population.

Our afternoon game drive began at the river, where we saw a group of storks…pretty yellow-billed ones and surpassingly ugly Maribou, with their fleshy pink wattles that dangled halfway to the ground. A couple of Nile crocodiles lay about. We roamed about freely as herds of impala and wildebeest watched our progress. Suddenly, Waziri spotted a male lion in a thicket, and we pulled up for a closer look, being cautioned not to make any sudden movements. Two more lion were nearby, all sitting in a restful manner. We pulled closer to observe the peacefully resting cats.

Later, Waziri set up a small table for the traditional “sundowner” drink. Over cocktails, we toasted each other and marked the occasion with photos. We arrived back at the camp in darkness and prepared for dinner, which was served in a courtyard area framed by a fence of timbers ringed with hurricane lamps. It felt like “Survivor.” The five-course dinner was superb and a nearly full moon added to the atmosphere. Afterwards, we retired to our tent and fell asleep to a symphony of bird calls, monkey shrieks, hippo grunts and a couple of lion roars.

On the next day’s game drive, we were greeted immediately by a solitary hippo wandering about the landing strip, far from the river. With few clouds, the light was great as we encountered a large herd of giraffe. Driving further, we encountered a den of hyenas, perhaps as many as a dozen, with several cubs that occasionally popped their heads up. One hyena held a wildebeest’s leg in its mouth, refusing to let go. Then Waziri spotted a concentration of buzzards, so we took off in that direction to investigate. A huge gathering of perhaps 40 buzzards of several species were attacking a wildebeest carcass, with much squawking and jostling for position.

Soon afterward, I spotted a lone buffalo in a thicket. Next to her was a newborn calf, glistening in the morning light and struggling to stand. The umbilical cord still trailed from the mother, who whirled to defend her calf, nostrils flaring. Soon she realized they were in no danger, and as soon as the baby could walk, they rejoined the herd. We saw a troop of baboons …clinging to one was a very tiny baby, with pink translucent ears which let the sunlight through. A pair of beautiful Bateleur eagles with bright orange beaks surveyed the scene from a nearby perch.

We drove back to camp for lunch and a midday break, enjoying a calamari salad as the hippos entertained us. Not long into our afternoon drive, Waziri picked up a report of a lion sighting. We discovered a male in a thicket, who started walking slowly towards a clearing, the most active lion we had seen. Another lion emerged and walked slowly towards our vehicle, stopping to rest about 20 feet away. We watched breathlessly as a whole pride emerged, one by one, and came to rest in front of us, unconcerned by our presence. Ten lions in all gathered, and we remained there for quite a while. Our return to camp crossed the river at a point where we could see four of the mighty Nile crocodile.

The following morning we were to depart for Klein’s Camp, which enjoys a beautiful ridgetop setting. The circular, white stucco room was nicely furnished in a Colonial style. We enjoyed a late lunch in their open air dining hall, and met the rest of our afternoon party… Jeff and Amy, a honeymooning couple from Manhattan…in the clubby, comfortable bar with its sweeping views.

On the afternoon game drive, we employed a Masai tracker, Labo, who sat in a chair mounted on the front of the vehicle. We encountered the familiar giraffe, elephant, impala and baboons, until a radio report of a lion sighting led us to a male and female lion enjoying a siesta under a tree. Suddenly, the male mounted the female, shuddered once and dismounted as the female let out a cry. The whole thing took perhaps five seconds. We found out that lions will mate for a period of five to seven days, every 20 minutes or so, and that it is painful for the female. Apparently foreplay is not part of the lion’s mating ritual.

Sometime later, Labo spotted a group of cheetah lying in the long grass. They did little other than raise their heads on occasion, but we were thrilled to see these seldom-spotted creatures, and spent a while observing and photographing them. Soon it was time for the “sundowner” and we stopped to toast our adventures. This night we were scheduled for a night drive, in which the tracker shone a spotlight into the bush, looking for pairs of eyes. We failed to see many animals…the experience of bouncing along in the moonlit bush the only entertainment to be had.

The following morning, we scoured the river areas for trees for leopards. Herds of hartebeests, zebra, gazelle and impala caught our interest from time to time, but we were captivated by a cheetah that suddenly appeared just a few feet from our vehicle, apparently stalking something. As sundowner time approached, we parked on a flat granite outcropping, and set up the bar.

As we finished our drinks, another vehicle picked us up for a surprise honoring our 30th anniversary, and we took off into the long grass. 45 minutes later, we saw a group of lights as we approached a clearing ringed by hurricane lamps. Two giant bonfires burned in the center, and a smiling group of Klein’s staff stood next to a candlelit table for two. We were served a bountiful feast of soup, salad, lamb curry and champagne. Chocolate mousse ended the meal on a sweet note, and as it was served, a group of Masai performers entered the clearing, stepping and harmonizing with skill and enthusiasm. Our chef couldn’t resist joining in. The magic of the evening enveloped us in a warm glow, carrying us through the rest of the extraordinary night.

The next day, we flew to the Ngorongoro Crater. We met our driver and were whisked from the bustling town of Karatu up the long grade to the rim of the crater, 7000 feet above sea level. Arriving at the Ngorongoro Crater Lodge was like entering Middle Earth…rows of salmon-colored thatched huts with medieval-looking chimneys cascaded down a gentle slope towards the crater, as zebra grazed nonchalantly on a grassy common area.

Our room was spectacular…a fanciful and eclectic mix of materials and architectural styles combined to create a magical space. Two soaring palapa roofs rose above the expansive bedroom and bath areas, with a crystal chandelier suspended in each. Looming over our bed was a giant panel of crimson silk fabric framed by carved wood.

The afternoon game drive was brief. Departing around 3 with our guide Timothy, we descended quickly, soon sighting a couple of lions, and spending time at a hippo pool marked by lots of splashing. At a distance, Timothy spotted a rare black rhino, and we strained to see it through the binoculars. Back by dark, dinner was again wonderful, and soon we were dialing up the twin electric blankets in our bed.

The next morning, we dressed warmly for the game drive. Shortly after reaching the bottom, a cheetah appeared right next to our vehicle and stayed close by for several minutes and good photographs. Timothy had packed a breakfast, and we stopped at a picnic area near a hippo pool. As we munched on granola, bacon and fritatta and sipped warm coffee to offset the morning chill, we watched the hippos interact. A number of beautiful ibis, starlings and weaverbirds flitted about.

As the clouds receded, we drove about, encountering a herd of zebra which practically had to be pushed off the road. We parked to watch a group of lions…four females and two cubs…which walked directly towards us, practically touching the vehicle as they appeared to be stalking some wildebeest. One female stayed behind with the cubs as the other three began approaching the herd under cover of the tall grass. Steadily they advanced, one at a time, the cubs and their guardian behind. Suddenly the wildebeest became aware of the lions’ presence, and adopted defensive positions at a safe distance. Soon, the lions abandoned their quest as the wildebeest trotted away. Later, we noticed a herd jumping across a river at great speed. Soon we spotted four hyena, closing in on the herd and causing them to reverse direction. They kept the wildebeest scurrying back and forth, but eventually they too left in frustration. By mid-afternoon we were ready for lunch, and we ascended the steep road back to the lodge.

After lunch, we repaired to the room and lit a fire, sipping sherry and basking in the luxury of our surroundings. After another splendid dinner, we stopped by the bar to chat with our new friends from London. When we were ready to call it a night, we encountered the surly buffalo mentioned earlier. Once safely inside our room, we bedded down for our final night on safari, feeling wistful that it had come to an end, but looking forward to a few days in Zanzibar, the Spice Island.

The drive from the airport offered a fascinating study into Zanzibar life, as the road was teeming with pedestrians, bicycles and “dala-dala” buses, on which as many as 20 people jammed onto two long benches. Small shops sold everything from lumber to groceries, cell phones to plastic laundry tubs. Women, dressed in colorful fabrics that covered their heads were reflective of the Muslim culture, which comprises 95% of the population. Groups of schoolgirls, dressed in bright uniforms and white scarves, walked alongside carts derived from automobile parts and pulled by oxen or donkeys. Houses built of varying materials and in varying states of completion alternated with small plots of bananas or maize. Farther from town, the road was lined with rows of mango trees, forming a shady canopy. Soon we turned into the driveway of Beaches.

The resort was, in contrast to the intimate feel of the safari lodges, a sprawling collection of bungalows and villas, adjacent to miles of white, powdery beach. Here, instead of 6 AM wake-up calls and hours hanging onto a jouncing vehicle, we had little to do except lounge by the beach or the pool, sipping Kilimanjaro beer and South African chardonnay. The room was nice, although nothing like the Ngorongoro Crater Lodge, and after checking out the beach, we were content to chill out for the rest of the afternoon.

Dinner was served in a large, covered, open-air setting with views of the pool and beach. Entertainment was provided by a local group who, after a set of instrumental jams, began performing rock covers, which were was an interesting cross-pollination of western and African styles. We left to the strains of Marley’s “One Love” which gradually faded as we walked back to our room.

The next day we took a trip to historic Stone Town with our guide, Mudi. He escorted us into chambers used to house slaves during the infamous Zanzibar slave trade, which had flourished until 1873. Seeing the conditions the slaves endured was very disturbing. We visited an old Anglican church serving the small Christian population, and soon found ourselves in the marketplace, a maze of narrow alleys into which were crammed booths offering all manner of food and merchandise. People flowed past each other with barely enough room to get by. One alley served as the fish market…mounds of octopus and fish of varying sizes were heaped upon stone tables...nearby were meat and poultry markets.

We stopped at a spice booth, offering bags of spices as well as assortments. Strolling past produce booths, Mudi showed us some of the local fruit, such as jackfruit and lichee. Roving merchants accosted us offering necklaces, Tanzanian soccer jerseys and CDs. We passed a booth with some beautiful scarves, one of which Ellen picked up for about $4, and poked around several curio shops. At one point our guide identified some amplified chanting as the work of a traditional witch doctor, which many locals still trust. Our walk continued through an old Arab fort with a grassy courtyard that had become an impromptu art market featuring touristy paintings.

We stopped at the Africa House hotel for a beer on its veranda overlooking the harbor. From there, we toured the local museum with exhibits covering periods of Portuguese, Arab and British colonial rule, as well as Swahili culture. Mudi also pointed out the building where Freddy Mercury, the lead singer of Queen, was born. A couple of historic government buildings marked the end of our tour, and we rode back to the resort, satisfied with our three-hour crash course in Zanzibar culture. Later, dinner was served at our table as a troupe of acrobats and jugglers performed an assortment of stunts, such as somersaulting through small hoops, and handstands on stacks of bricks.

We booked a massage for the following afternoon…two petite Asian women worked their magic fingers into our receptive muscles. A stint in the eucalyptus-scented steam room and a Jacuzzi completed our spa experience. Afterwards, we took a long walk on the beach. We stumbled onto a beachside souvenir shop, and met an artist in his studio, who was displaying pretty much the same ubiquitous paintings.

The theme for dinner was “Spice Night,” and music was provided by a small ensemble of older gentlemen. They performed hauntingly beautiful music that seemed to combine all the threads of Zanzibar culture. The next morning, we got up early for sunrise photos. It was beautifully quiet. We had breakfast and packed for the last time. All too soon, it was time to drive to the airport. Soon, we were on a flight to Nairobi, during which we could see the crater at the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

By the time we were picked up at SFO, it was mid-afternoon and we had been in transit some 38 hours. But along with the carved animals, masks and other curios, we had brought back memories that would last a lifetime.

Recently, a pet cloning company in Marin County decided to hold a contest, and award someone the prize of having their pet cloned, normally a $100,000 proposition. There was a certain amount of controversy brewing around the company, having to do with not only the stratospheric cost of cloning a pet, but the vast number of animals in shelters who are euthanized if they can't find an adoptive home. I decided to enter the contest, since I have a wonderful pet with a great story to tell, and pledged that if I won, I would adopt a dog from a rescue group to serve as the cloned dog's companion. Here is the story:

“I can’t save your dog.” The words of the vet hung over us like a dark cloud. Our beloved yellow lab, Ginger, had been brought in to examine a growth on her cheek which turned out to be a malignant bone cancer. “She has maybe four months to live. Eight with surgery or chemotherapy.”

We considered whether it was worthwhile to prolong her life with such invasive treatments, and decided that a few extra months wouldn’t be worth the suffering it would cause. Meanwhile, I had begun my recovery from a brain tumor one year earlier, with a regimen which had involved nutritional supplements and Chi Gung, an ancient Chinese self-healing practice involving movement and meditation. I had faced a similar prognosis, and was slowly returning to health, and thought, “Why not put Ginger on the same program, and see what happens?”

We started adding a couple of supplements to her food, and when I did my daily practice, Ginger sat at my feet, absorbing the Chi energy I was gathering. Four months passed, and as my recovery continued, we noticed that the growth on Ginger’s cheek was shrinking. More months passed, and we both continued to improve…I was able to resume driving after a year of being seizure-free, and Ginger’s growth disappeared. We resumed our weekly runs near the Loch Lomond Marina, where Ginger loved to alternate between running the trail among the high weeds and plunging into the Bay after a tennis ball.

Nearly five years later, Ginger is still very much alive, although slowed somewhat by arthritis and the fact that she is now 14 years old. Looking back, she has given so much to our family over the years it’s difficult to imagine life without her. She came to us when our two boys were 6 and 7, and the three of them basically grew up together. From the beginning, her expressiveness has inspired comments from friends and strangers alike, all of whom have marveled at the human-like quality of her facial gestures. Her unfailingly cheerful greeting to all who have come to our door has resulted in uncounted treats willingly offered by express delivery drivers who have come to know her. We did have concerns that should a thief approach in the dead of night, she would treat him with the same affection she freely gave everyone else, but fortunately, we have never had to find out.

Having faced life-threatening conditions and survived against the odds has bonded Ginger and I in a wonderful way, and as she nears the end of her life, I find myself wanting to make the time we have left last as long as possible. Yet I am grateful that she has lived a full and rich life, and that after she is gone, her spirit will live on in our fond memories. Should she be chosen for cloning, we would be thankful for the opportunity for her spirit to live on in a more tangible way.

Five Years of Survival

Five years ago this month, my life changed forever when I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Since that time, I have chronicled my journey back to health with a series of messages, of which this is the latest. At first, when things were changing rapidly, they were much more frequent. As I improved and the need for MRI tests stretched out to every six months, so did these updates. Today I am blessed to be able to share with you the results of yesterday's MRI…a clean bill of health! At five years out, this represents a significant milestone, and an occasion for me to express my gratitude to all who have helped me achieve it: the doctors at UCSF, my Chi Gung teacher Don Rubbo, Michael Broffman of the Pine Street Clinic, cranial sacral therapists Ramona Sierra and Maureen O'Neil, the musicians who helped me record my CD (Joe Paulino, Anne Zesiger, Michael Woods, John Gomes, and Paul Lamb) my mother's prayer circle in Fort Collins, Colorado (as well as the countless friends and relatives whose prayers undoubtedly helped) and most of all, to my life partner and sweetheart Ellen. Her unwavering love, faith and strength pulled me through the darkest of times, and continue to make my life the wonderful thing that it is. Thank you all so very much.

A lot has happened in the last six months. Ellen has had a couple of gallery showings of her photography, and business has picked up considerably compared to the past few years, with several new clients. The startup I have been working with continues to develop, with funding hoped for by the end of this year. We hosted several parties this summer featuring performances by my band, The Vanilla Extract, who is also scheduled to perform at Ellen's upcoming gallery opening at California Closets in San Rafael September 6, which features four “travel collages” incorporating Ellen's photos, my sketches and hand-written journal entries.

In July, Ellen and I took an amazing trip to Costa Rica, where for eight days we toured much of the country with a tour group (not something we would normally do, but it turned out to be fun and informative as we had a terrific tour guide). We stayed in some cool places, and took in a lot of wildlife, breathtaking rural countryside, picturesque towns, and a wonderful thermal hot springs resort next to an imposing volcano. The highlight of our trip was a zip line canopy tour… strapped into a harness and suspended by a pulley from a series of cables connecting elevated platforms, we flew through the top of a cloud forest at heart-pounding speed. We returned with fond memories and a couple pounds of really great organic coffee.

This week, Miles began a new life for himself at Cuesta Community College in San Luis Obispo. After securing a room in a house on a visit several weeks ago, we drove down with him over the weekend, with several pieces of Ikea furniture in boxes and all of his necessities, and set him up for the school year. A friend from high school will be staying with him for a month, and another friend lives nearby, so he has a couple of familiar faces to help him make the transition. He's very excited to be living away from home, and we expect this year to be one of tremendous growth and blossoming for him. Eventually, he plans to transfer to Cal Poly and pursue a career in computer science. Tyler is taking classes at College of Marin as we encourage him to start thinking about his future as well.

When I think back to five years ago, I realize what a gift these years have been to me. I am filled with gratitude that I am here typing this in August 2007, four and a half years after the doctor who diagnosed me initially gave me to live. I am truly fortunate to be able to witness my children heading off to college, and to be able to share the wealth of experiences both large and small that each day affords me. I have learned what the power of love and faith can accomplish. And I have every expectation of being here to update you all for many years to come.

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey, and may your own journeys bring you blessings and good fortune.

Peace and love,

Dan