Category: Who knows

  • “. . . a triumph of love against evil and truth against lies.”

    What follows actually happened. It is not a parable, a tall tale, or fiction.

    Before reading it – or following the links – it might not be a bad idea to grab a tissue or three.

    . . .

    During the Cold War, a boy was born. He was born in a third-world nation.

    Unfortunately, he was born in a nation ruled by a corrupt tyrant. That corrupt tyrant was in turn overthrown by a Communist tyrant while he was still very young.

    As a young child, he had few toys. But while very young, a relative who was living abroad sent him a toy airplane.

    It was a life-changing moment for the lad. From that day onwards, his dream was to be a pilot.

    . . .

    The boy grew up under Communism. He was indoctrinated by his dictatorship’s educational system.

    Initially, the Communist regime was good to him. It allowed him to fulfil his boyhood dream. He became an officer in his country’s air force. The Communist regime sent him to the locus of world Communism – the Soviet Union – to receive training as a combat pilot.

    This good treatment, coupled with his educational indoctrination, made him an ardent Communist. Initially.

    But while in the Soviet Union, the boy – now a young man – began to see the same things that others from his country had seen years before. While the Soviets were ruthless and good at creating weapons, their standard of living was abysmal. And their claims of having created “Communist utiopia, where all were equal” . . . well, those claims were obviously bullsh!t.

    Institutionalized prejudice was rampant, as was inequality. He saw that further when his nation sent him to a third country to support Communist revolutionaries there.

    He also heard the stories of how ruthless his regime’s leadership had been when it took over. And the young man’s views . . . began to change.

    By his late 20s or early 30s, the young man had become thoroughly disillusioned. Once an ardent Communist, he now saw he’d followed a lie.

    In the meantime, he’d married. His wife was a successful healthcare professional. They had two children.

    He indicated to his wife how badly disillusioned he’d become. He could no longer stomach parroting the “party line” lies to his troops.

    His wife – knowing full well the impact what she was about to say would have on both her and their children – nonetheless told him, “You have to leave.”

    No, she wasn’t throwing him out of the house because he was disillusioned. She was telling him to defect.

    So he did.

    During a military training flight, he defected. He flew to a US base, and safely landed. He asked for political asylum. His request was granted.

    But his family remained behind, under Communist rule.

    . . .

    Being a military professional, the man knew about working through channels. For over a year, he worked – with both US government agencies and private concerns, both privately and publicly – to convince the Communist regime of his former homeland to release his family.

    Nothing happened. And after a year, it was fairly clear that nothing was going to happen any time soon.

    So the man went back. No, he did not redefect.

    He went back to get his family.

    . . .

    He managed to get a message to his wife through a third party, telling her where he would meet her and his children. At a later time, he also managed to get a second message to her specifying the date and time.

    He obtained his private pilot’s license in the US. He secured backers – one of whom bought, for a sympathetic private concern, an aircraft. He obtained access to and permission to use that aircraft, a Cessna.

    He kept his plans secret from all but a very few others. He especially did not tell anyone in the US government what he planned – lest they stop him to prevent an international incident.

    He then went back to his homeland. He landed the Cessna on a busy highway in his homeland, just missing a car and a truck. Traffic stopped.

    His family was there. They got in.

    He left. He flew low, to evade radar.

    He again returned to freedom. And this time, his wife and children were with him.

    . . .

    As I said above, the story is not fiction. The man who did this was Major Orestes Lorenzo-Pérez, of the Cuban Air Force. His original defection on 20 March 1991 caused great embarrassment for the US Department of Defense because he’d managed to fly a MIG-23BN from Cuba to NAS Key West completely undetected.

    His second trip – on 19 December 1992 – received more publicity. And it also caused Cuba even more embarrassment than his defection. It seems that Lorenzo-Pérez made his second trip during what Cuba’s Communist dictator Fidel Castro had called Cuba’s “most intensive military exercise in its history.” Or, as Lorenzo-Pérez himself put it when asked his opinion of the Cuban military: “I went into Cuba and brought them (his family) back during their biggest military exercises . . . . And I did it in a Cessna.” (smile)

    The daring rescue flight had one other collateral benefit . It raised the level of pressure on Castro enough that later additional members of the families of both Lorenzo-Pérez and his wife Victoria were allowed to emigrate.

    Loronzo-Pérez is now a naturalized US citizen. His book about his flights to freedom for himself and his family is titled Wings of the Morning. It’s on my list to acquire and read.

    You’ll have to ask Hollywood why the book hasn’t been made into a motion picture. But I’d guess I know at least part of the reason.

    Orestes Lorenzo-Pérez is today an American citizen. The title of this article is a quotation from one of his remarks at a 21 December 1992 news conference held after the flight rescuing his family.

    Bien hecho, Señor. Estoy orgulloso de llamarte mi compatriotas.
    —–

    Sources:

    https://militaryaviationchronicles.com/cold-war/former-mig-pilot-orestes-lorenzo-recounts-his-daring-defection-flights/

    https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/local/1992/12/22/a-cuban-pilots-triumph-of-love/a48fbe25-7f4a-4727-8f6a-33d90dd11c0d/?utm_term=.43e1c88a6552

    https://www.nytimes.com/1992/12/21/us/cuban-pilot-who-defected-flies-back-for-family.html

    https://people.com/archive/100-minutes-to-freedom-vol-39-no-1/

  • Accidents Will Happen . . .

    . . . and sometimes, they’re good things. Especially when they result in something special.

    Accidents happen all the time in recording studios. Usually they are edited out during production, but some are deliberately left in place in the released product. There are numerous lists on the Internet detailing such accidents left in place on songs that later became hits.

    But sometimes recording studios also capture music that is sublime purely by accident. In rock & roll, that happened at least twice in the early 1970s. Both were unplanned, accidental single takes that captured “lightning in a bottle”.

    . . .

    The first occurred during the 1970 recording sessions for the album “Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs” by Derek and the Dominos (Eric Clapton’s new but short-lived band). There were two chance occurrences that came together here.

    The first was Eric Clapton being invited to an Allman Brothers Band concert. (Clapton was a fan of Duane Allman’s guitar work.) Afterwards, he met Duane Allman – who he’d previously only known by reputation. The two hit it off wonderfully; Allman was shortly invited to become a member of Clapton’s new band. He accepted the invitation, and contributed to most of the songs on the album.

    The second chance occurrence occurred during the recording sessions for the “Layla” album. One day, Clapton and Allman were in the studio. Sam Samudio (AKA “Sam the Sham”) was in a neighboring studio; he was recording the blues classic “Key to the Highway.” Clapton and Allman heard this, and started playing the song themselves in an impromptu jam session. Their album’s producer, Tom Dowd, walked by and heard their jam; he quickly told the recording engineers to “Hit the goddamn machine!” (e.g., start recording immediately). The result speaks for itself.

     


     

    . . .

    Something similar happened the following year, during the recording of the Rolling Stones’ classic album “Sticky Fingers”. Here, the band was recording “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking”. The song was set to end at around 2:43. However, at the end of the song the Stones’ second guitarist Mick Taylor simply wanted to continue playing – so he sat there and jammed a bit. The rest of the band rejoined him, and they jammed for another 4 1/2 minutes. Fortunately, the recording engineers had let the tape run – and captured some truly inspired rock & roll during that unplanned 4 1/2 minutes.

     


     

    FWIW: in the comments to the above Youtube clip, there’s this comment about the tune by commenter “Munch da Cat” (presumably about the song’s intro and early guitar work by Keith Richards; Mick Taylor did the final guitar solo, and his guitar is markedly less distorted than Richards’) that IMO absolutely nails the overall vibe of the tune – and the Stones of that era in general.

    “That guitar is so dirty. That guitar has been up all night drinking whiskey, smoking Marlboros, and there are two young ladies in a state of dishabille lying on the bed; and that guitar is about to go out to work and replace the transmission on a 59 Chevy Impala . . . .”

    Tip o’ the hat, amigo.

    —–

    Just a little music for Saturday morning enjoyment. Hope you liked it. (smile)

  • A Pair of Tunes from a Pair of Masters

    Here ya go: a little musical entertainment for a Saturday morning. These are from their joint 2000 album “Riding With the King.”

    Enjoy.

     


     
     

     

  • Merry Christmas – Redux

    A paraphrased repeat from a year ago.

    Well, once again we’re “enjoying” participating in that annual ritual called “Holiday Travel” – and it’s now Christmas Day. So I decided to repost what I thought was some appropriate Christmas music for our readers.

    Yeah, the tune here was indeed written by one of the original hippies from the 60s – albeit one who did have at least a little common sense (see his tune “Taxman”). And yeah, the chorus is unrealistic and Polyannaish in the extreme.

    But for a military audience, the sentiment is apropos; many of us know just how bad war can be, having seen it firsthand. And today the song just seems apropos. The version below is IMO even better than Lennon’s original.

     

     

     

    Merry Christmas, all. Take care.

  • Christmas Eve Wishes

    I can remember seeing this years ago – I believe it was when it first aired (1977).

    An odd pairing, particularly given Bowie’s stage personae during the previous 5 years – but it nonetheless worked perfectly. It’s apropos for today, I think.

     

     

    Angelic voices, indeed. RIP, gentlemen.

    Have a wonderful Christmas Eve, all. And if you’re also traveling – take care.

  • Poser Daydreams

    Yesterday Dave posted an article that kinda got stuck in my head. That was probably because Dave’s article contained some photos that IMO looked strikingly like a 1960s time-warp/burn-out/wannabe head case – like this one:

    After seeing that, for some reason an old Bowie tune also got stuck in my head. No, not Space Oddity – this one:

     

     

    But Bowie’s original lyrics didn’t match the article and its photos too well; they needed some changes to fit. So, without further ado . . . here ya go. Enjoy. (smile)

    —–

    Poser Daydreams

    I’m an SF faker,
    I’m a lying bastard comin’ at you
    Phony Purple Heart, yeah,
    I’ll be a lie-rocking b!tch for you
    Keep your mouth shut
    You’re exposing my lies to them all
    And I‘ll really bust my ass when I fall

    Hear those ‘lectric lies from me, babe
    Suspend incredulity
    Read my bullsh!t tales in print, and
    Believe all my poser daydreams, oh yeah!

    I fake it baby
    Never get truth from me
    Some bogus tall tales
    Those are all you’ll get with me
    Don’t check on me
    Don’t see what my records say
    Don’t prove me a fake today

    Hear those ‘lectric lies from me, babe
    Suspend incredulity
    Read my bullsh!t tales in print, and
    Believe all my poser daydreams, oh yeah!

    Hear those ‘lectric lies from me, babe
    Suspend incredulity
    Read my bullsh!t tales in print, and
    Believe all my poser daydreams, oh . . . .

    Hear those ‘lectric lies from me, babe
    Suspend incredulity
    Read my bullsh!t tales in print, and
    Believe all my poser daydreams, oh yeah!

    Freak out . . .

    Far out . . .

    Burnt out . . .

  • For a Lazy Saturday . . . .

    Three legends, one stage, one song. Sometimes explanations aren’t necessary.

     

    Royal Albert Hall, 29 May 2006: Davide Bowie makes an unannounced appearance with David Gimour and Richard Wright

     

    Bowie likely wasn’t at his best; he’d had cardiac issues about 2 years earlier, and was taking 2006 off from touring. But the performance is IMO worth viewing anyway.

    FWIW: if you want to see class in action, watch carefully what Bowie does whenever Gilmour takes the lead vocal or plays a guitar solo. He intentionally backs away, out of the spotlight, and lets Gilmour “drive”.

    Two of the three (David Bowie and Richard Wright) are now gone. But they left behind some of their magic for posterity.

  • Parents and Children

    Longtime TAH readers know I travel a bit. For what it’s worth, I’m traveling now.

    And with apologies to a guy named Robert Clark Seger: “When you’re driving umpteen hours, there ain’t nothing much to do” that’s reasonably safe – except to listen to music, either pre-recorded or on the radio. Sightseeing isn’t a particularly good option while driving, and the same is true of most everything else that would take your eyes and attention off of the road.

    So yeah – I listen. And yeah, that means I’m about to wander off the ‘res a bit here.

    Fair warning: if you’ve lost someone close recently – or are having difficulty dealing with a past loss of someone close – you might want to stop reading and skip the rest of this article. But if you haven’t, IMO you really need to read what follows.

    . . .

    Parents and their children often butt heads. The relationship can be difficult.

    That’s particularly true between same-sex parent and child pairs. Those relationships often become quite strained when the child hits their teenage years.

    I don’t really know why that is; I’m no shrink. But I’ll hazard a guess anyway.

    I think the reason is evolutionary and hormonal. Humans are territorial animals, and seem to naturally gravitate to a hierarchical leadership model. Accordingly, in a family unit generally there’s room for only one male and one female “top dog”.

    A maturing child threatens that structure. The child at some point reaches puberty, then young adulthood – and that change threatens the family’s stability.

    Sometimes things get really nasty; other times, not so much. But the conflict is often if not most often there to some degree in every family. The participants almost always work it out, forming adult/near peer relationships in time.

    That status holds for years, even decades. But eventually, if you’re “lucky” . . . you’ll outlive your parents. And yes, the “lucky” is in quotation marks in the previous sentence for reasons that should be obvious.

    Burying a parent is hard – one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. I can only think of a handful of experiences that IMO might be worse.

    But another issue comes later. And it can be kinda hard to deal with.

    Because after you’ve buried a parent – or had one advance into dementia to the point they only rarely recognize you, perhaps, and maybe not even then – there are certain things you can’t do any more.

    In particular, you can’t really ever tell them how much they mean to you – at least not in person. And I guarantee that after they’re gone you will kick yourself, repeatedly, for not having told them what they mean to you on a regular and recurring basis when they were around to hear you tell them.

    . . .

    Yeah, a particular song spawned this article. It was one written by a successful singer who had a rather difficult relationship with his father.

    The original version was written while the singer’s father was dying a protracted death. The author reportedly sang that early version at his father’s funeral.

    It was later recorded, with some changes; it was released over a decade ago. It was awarded multiple Grammy awards.

    If you choose to listen, since you now know the tune’s background maybe having a tissue handy might be a good idea. Those who’ve recently lost someone close, or who are having difficulty coming to terms with a past loss, IMO really should pass on listening.

     

     

    . . .

    Yeah, this article is a bit morose. And no, I’m not trying to be “Downer Dave” or the Thanksgiving equivalent of The Grinch here. But sometimes, an idea is important enough that it needs to be said – and can’t be “sugar coated”.

    Because life often has a way of reminding you – one way or another, and often very suddenly – that tomorrow . . . is never guaranteed. For anyone.

    . . .

    Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. Enjoy the holiday. Use the opportunity to spend time with those who are important to you if you can. Let them know how much they mean to you.

    And if one or both of your parents are still alive, make damn sure you tell them how much you love them.