Thursday, September 27, 2007

Just Say "Non!"







We should pause today and observe a moment of silence to honor the great Marcel Marceau, a man whose fame was based on not saying anything. In remembering him we should acknowledge not only his achievements as a mime, but also this strange irony: Sometimes the quietest people still say the most important things.

In the too infrequent words of Marcel Marceau, “Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?”

Had Marceau talked more, we might have learned sooner that he was a French Jew who narrowly escaped the genocidal madness of the Holocaust, and that his father Charles, who gave to his son a love of theater and music, was murdered at Auschwitz along with more than a million other human beings.

Marceau didn’t say much about his father’s death. Here is what he did say though about the children who were killed at Auschwitz: "Among those kids was maybe an Einstein, a Mozart, somebody who (would have) found a cancer drug," he told reporters in 2000."That is why we have a great responsibility. Let us love one another."

“Let us love one another.” When, if ever, do we hear those words spoken by our celebrities, our politicians, or even amongst ourselves? Those five simple words should pass our lips every day to counter the malicious intent of those who have dedicated themselves to hatred and intolerance.

Marcel Marceau worked with the French Resistance during World War II to help protect Jewish children. Later he was recruited to work as a liaison officer with Gen. George S. Patton’s army because he (Marceau, not Patton) spoke passable English. When he was offstage though, Marceau loved to chat: “Never get a mime talking. He won’t stop.”


(Patton probably replied “Shut up, Marceau-- and quit miming Eisenhower, you know how I hate that).

As a child, Marceau loved the films of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and the Marx Brothers. One would guess that his favorite Marx brother was probably Harpo, who only spoke in the language of music. Many years later, Marcel said that “Music conveys moods and images. Even in opera, where plots deal with the structure of destiny, it’s music, not words, that provides power.”

In many ways, our world now resembles a Marx Brothers production: Increasingly noisy, frantically paced, and crazy. We should all remember the advice of that famously silent man, Marcel Marceau: “It’s good to shut up sometimes.” If Groucho and Chico could occasionally be quiet, we can too.


Sometimes, though, it is not so good to shut up. In the paraphrased words attributed to many, including Pastor Martin Niemoller (Who refused to shut up and was imprisoned at both the Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps) here are some very good words about silence, and the ramifications of silence, which are inscribed at the United States Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out-
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out-
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me- and there was no one left to speak for me.


In Mel Brooks’ classic “Silent Movie,” only one word was spoken, and it was uttered by the great Marceau. It was the single word “Non!” which is the very best word for courageous people to use when confronted by social injustice, religious intolerance and bigotry. Think of it as a kind of spiritual weed-killer to use against hatred.


If you and I will just say “Non,” the bright red flower that blossomed from the hat of the world’s greatest mime will live forever.



Thursday, September 6, 2007

To Lose a Mockingbird

Perhaps literature’s most famous paternal advice was given in Maycomb County by a lawyer named Atticus to his young son Jem: “Shoot all the bluejays you want, but always remember that it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” As Miss Maudie later explained to Scout, and we were sadly reminded today “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy; they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us.”

Luciano Pavarotti’s great heart has now been stilled, his soaring voice silenced. Even now, experts and pundits are scrambling to explain the historical impact of Pavarotti's career. My advice to them, on behalf of a world largely comprised of music aficionados with no formal training or skill is; please don’t bother. Like former Attorney General Ed Meese, who knew pornography when he saw it, most of us know good music when we hear it-- and we didn’t need to be opera experts to know we were hearing something special when Pavarotti sang it.

Our dad’s idea of a perfect Saturday was to work in his shop while listening to opera. (In our family, dad’s workshop was analogous to what most of you know as the garage, since his shop usually held a partially constructed airplane instead of the family car).

“Hey, take this bucking bar and crawl back into the fuselage and hold it against the rivets for me.” (Most kids mowed the lawn; we bucked rivets for our old man while he built his plane). The noise produced by riveting is loud enough from outside a hollow metal chamber, let alone the inside. Between rivets I became dimly aware of a beautiful sound emanating from dad’s cherished radio, which he’d proudly purchased on the Reader’s Digest Easy Payment Plan of $5 a month.

“Hey dad,” I yelled, “Who’s that singing?”

“That’s Pavarotti!” BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP!

So, my appreciation for opera was born between rivets-- although “La Boheme” is much prettier when your ears aren’t ringing. In a world full of raucous birds that eat our gardens and nest in our corncribs, the mockingbirds are few and far between. When we lose them, their absence is like the silence that follows a thunderstorm, or a rivet bucking session.

“Nessun Dorma” is the famous aria from Puccini’s opera “Turandot” and was Pavarotti’s signature piece. Nessun dorma, “Let no one sleep,” was the order of Princess Turandot, as she proclaimed that all should spend the night searching for the name of the unknown prince.

Tonight, Turandot’s prince sleeps amongst the angels, his aria finished, the curtain lowered one last time.

Bravo, Luciano, bravissimo!