Can't touch this

It seemed an unlikely event:
- A concert of funerary music.
- To be performed atop the crypts at historic Laurel Hill Cemetery.
- As part of the Philly Fringe Festival.
- By the Divine Hand Ensemble.
- Featuring a Theremin, an electronic instrument invented in 1919, plus harps, violins, and other instruments that produce sounds described as "ethereal, eloquent and mesmerizing."

So last Saturday, I spent the evening on Laurel Hill's Millionaire's Row alongside a number of prominent names in Philadelphia history who, because they couldn't take their fortunes with them, left behind impressive monuments.

Spending time in the cemetery wasn't scary, spooky, morbid, maudlin, depressing, sad, or weird.

It was surprisingly uplifting.

With perfect weather and a nice crowd, it felt peaceful. A respite from the busy city surrounding Laurel Hill.

I finally got to see how a Theremin works. Not by plucking strings or hitting keys, but by waving your hands near an antenna to control pitch and volume.

The Theremin is an instrument you can't touch to play. An appropriate choice for Laurel Hill, where you can't touch the "residents."

But both seemed very real last Saturday night.

Sugar for Rodriguez

It took 40-plus years for Rodriguez to become an overnight sensation in America.

The Detroit musician has been working construction since the 1970s, when his recording career failed to take off in his home country.

Little did he realize he has been an icon in South Africa all these years – bigger than the Beatles or Elvis – with fantastic and premature reports of his death.

Everything changed with the indie film, “Searching for Sugar Man.”  

I stumbled across the movie this weekend, and now Rodriguez and Sugar Man are all I see and hear.

• Rave reviews are everywhere:RogerEbert.com; TheFasterTimes.com; The Guardian; and on and on
• His music, unobtainable for years, is online – HuffingtonPost.com – and, of course, for sale at places like Amazon.com
• He tweets: @sugar_man
• There's an official Rodriguez website
•  And he'll soon be appearing at a venue right here in Philadelphia: World Cafe Live

The music may be from another time, but it sounds fresh and new to these ears....and I understand why it's such a revered classic in South Africa.

Great story. Great movie. Great music. And a wonderful example of dedication and second chances.

Business card bingo

On the wall in my office is a plaque that shows every business card I’ve ever had in my career.

Nine cards. Six companies. And today the only company with the same name, same ownership is my own.

So much for corporate loyalty…or business continuity.

• Before starting AMY INK, I worked for Fisher Scientific International Inc., now part of ThermoFisher Scientific Inc.
• Before that, I worked for Hercules Incorporated, now part of Ashland.
• Before that, I worked for ARCO Chemical, which was bought by Lyondell Petrochemical Corp., which became Lyondell Chemical Company, which is now LyondellBasell Industries.
• Before that, I worked for Bell Atlantic, which is now Verizon.
• Before that, I worked for Marketpac International, which had been a subsidiary of AIG, but is long since gone.
• And even though I never had a business card when I worked at SmithKline Corporation, that company was transformed into SmithKline Beckman, then SmithKline Beecham and, now, GlaxoSmithKline.

 At this point, I think I'm set with AMY INK. I can't imagine what would ever get me to change the name. I never even changed my own name, and I've been married to John Greenstine for decades.

Springsteen: 62 and rockin'

Sixty-two. To many Americans, this is the start of retirement; the earliest age for receiving Social Security benefits.

To Bruce Springsteen, 62 is the start of another worldwide tour to support yet another new album, "Wrecking Ball."

Springsteen exhibit at the National Constitution Center

As a born and bred Jersey girl -- especially one from Monmouth County -- I can hardly be anything other than a Springsteen fan. I saw him in the early days, when a few bucks and a handful of newspapers for recycling got me into a college show. I've seen him in more recent years, when I sat in nosebleed stadium seats and could barely hear him over the singing of those around me.

I cried when Clarence Clemmons died last year. While I had only seen him onstage, my father tells the story of playing handball with Clarence one night at Tradewinds Beach Club in Sea Bright, not knowing who he was until later.

All these memories came back in a flash while reading "We Are Alive: Bruce Springsteen at sixty-two," by David Remnick in the July 30 issue of The New Yorker.

This is a great read, both for longtime fans and for those who have always wondered what the fuss is all about. Much more depth and meaning is revealed than I ever knew about the man, the band, and the music.

I've been singing along to Springsteen songs since the early 1970s. There have been changes over the years -- in musical styles, messages in songs, members of the band -- but the foundation remains solid. As Bruce says in the article, "I try to put on the kind of show that the kid in the front row is going to come to and never forget."

I was that kid once. And I will never forget.