In 1972 or 1973, when I was twenty years old and a college undergraduate, I interviewed Elvin Jones at a Philly jazz club. I cannot remember which one, but I know it was not the Aqua Lounge or Just Jazz. It was not on the University of Pennsylvania’s campus either, where jazz groups sometimes played. What I remember was that I had to finagle to get in without paying.
Being disobedient is not necessarily a wise choice in any given circumstance, but it is powerful, perhaps the most powerful of all human actions. From “No! In Thunder!” to “I would prefer not to.” The symmetry of opposition has a kind of beauty to it.
Hank Aaron was an incredible player. He lived a long life. And he got his due, his accolades, his recognition, while he was alive. That is good. So many Black players from the Negro Leagues never did. Those Black barbers from my boyhood knew more than I did.
It was Christmas and Bobby was a good boy and we worked hard for our money. All of that must mean something. What is the point of a God and His Son if this hardship does not mean anything, you know, the hardship of this life, the grinding of it cannot be pointless, can it?
Connery had achieved his fame as the definitive film version of a pulp adventure hero in a film series that became not simply successful but mythical and went out of his profession portraying a decent version of another pulp adventure hero in a vastly inferior film. It happens that way with actors. It happens that way with their fans too.