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There's no way to describe quite the mixed emotions I'm feeling right now about two men whom I had gotten to know quite well during my years of covering the Ann Arbor sports scene.
On Tuesday morning, I learned that Richard Chenault, Gabriel Richard's longtime girls track and cross-country coach was among six members of the University of Michigan Survival Flight team killed when their plane crashed shortly after takeoff from Milwaukee. Chenault was one of my favorite coaches in Ann Arbor. Softspoken and unfailingly polite, he deeply appreciated any kind of coverage that his small team received. Small but successful team, I might add. Just two days before his death, his team had finished a surprising second at the Division 3 state finals, the best finish in school history. He was to be recognized Monday night as track coach of the year in the Catholic League.
It's truly amazing that a man like Chenault existed in this day and age. Here was a man who spent so much effort and time to save lives as a transplant specialist at the University of Michigan hospital, working tirelessly to increase organ donation rates across Michigan while going from city to city to pick up much needed body parts And that could have been enough, in terms of good karma. But the 44-year-old former Eastern Michigan athlete also spent 18 years with Gabriel Richard, genuinely caring for his kids in a way that few coaches do. Uncomplainingly, when five members of his track team also wanted to play soccer this spring, he adjusted their schedule so that they could do both.
I'll miss you Richard. And so will a lot of other people.
The other big news was far happier. New Michigan basketball coach John Beilein has hired Brian Townsend to be his new director of basketball operations. Since 2003, Townsend has been an assistant at Ohio University. But before that, as those in Ann Arbor remember, Townsend was a University of Michigan football player and basketball coach at Pioneer, the Ann Arbor high school that stands diagonally across from Michigan Stadium.
Townsend coached Pioneer to its first and only state title in 1999, but stepped down in 2003 so he could pursue a career in college coaching. Thanks to the intercession from Bo Schembechler, his former coach. Townsend landed a meeting with then U-M hoops coach Tommy Amaker. Ostensibly, the meeting was for Brian to get some advice from Amaker – but he was also hoping Amaker, who had a vacancy on his staff, would want to hire him. The day before the meeting, Brian called me up to ask what how he should present himself to Amaker. Having covered the Wolverines coach for more than a year, I told him what I could. Not only did I truly like Brianas a person, but I felt that the job would be perfect for him. Through hard work and dogged determination, Townsends had developed a well-deserved reputation as an excellent X's and O's coach – something that Amaker desperately needed, most U-M fans agreed. The meeting turned out to be perfunctory and disappointingly brief, Townsend told me afterwards. Basically, the equivalent of "don't call us, we'll call you." And shortly afterwards, Townsend headed down to Ohio – though he really wanted to stay in Ann Arbor and help his alma mater.
Four years later, he'll finally get that chance. It sure will be nice to see his smiling face in Tree Town again.
I just wish Richard Chenault's smile was around too.
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A recent visit from my folks got me thinking about the whole experience of driving and being a passenger these days.
My dad, who has always been hopeless when it comes to a sense of direction, recently purchased a GPS system. It's been wonderful for him. He even attached it to his rental car so that he could figure his way around Ann Arbor.
But here's what he told me: Now that he is focusing on the GPS, he no longer pays attention to landmarks on the roads that used to be an essential part of navigation to him. Instead, he listens to the GPS voice and occasionally looks for the green spots on the screen, which in Ann Arbor can be anything from city parks to Michigan Stadium.
Too bad.
It helped me remember a recent trip up to northern Michigan's wine country with my fiance, her son and my two kids. For the occasion, we rented a Saturn Relay to make everyone comfortable for the four-hour drive.
But I wonder how much those boys missed.
Yes, I know. All of us adults have memories of seemingly endless family car trips where there was almost nothing to do except for stare out the window, play the occasional alphabet game and groan (everyone say it together) "Are we there yet?"
These days, there are Gameboys, laptops and Ipods to keep the young'uns occupied. This particular rental car even had a DVD player with a pulldown screen. It certainly reduced arguments - except for when the question of which Will Farrell movie to play came up.
But did our kids really experience the magic of northern Michigan?
On several occasions, we nudged them out of their mini-universes to point out this or that beautiful view. The sight was acknowledged for a second or so, but then they went back to getting Link through the forest or watching Jack Black play the "Immigrant Song" for his "School of Rock" class. Looking back, 10-15 years from now, will anything they saw outside the car window really register?
I can't tell you how many images of America remain indelible in my brain because, by default, I was looking out the car window as a kid - whether it was something as breathtaking as the Pacific Coast Highway or something as eye-opening as the crumbling parts of Philadelphia during my parents' quest for the perfect cheese steak. In some ways, it made me who I am today - an eager traveler of the world, someone with an insatiable curiosity to see what a little squiggle on a road map really looks like.
Will this generation ever be like that? Or are we part of a vanishing breed?
I hope not.
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One of the movies I really connected with last year was "Little Miss Sunshine."
As entertaining as it was, I'm not sure it was really worth all the Oscar buzz. I could explain more, but that's not the point of this post.
The point is this: I really felt an emotional kinship with one of the movie's main characters.
No, I'm not talking about Abigail Breslin's Olive or Alan Arkin's Edwin, the cranky grandpa.
I'm talking about the big yellow Volkswagen bus that takes the family across the country on their misadventures. 
That very bus was the most memorable car of my childhood.
I wish I could say that I spent my pre-adolescence pushing our own 1973 yellow VW bus manually so that it could get it into gear. Or that it dramatically jumped over a few concrete barriers and fell apart in a hotel parking lot.
Unfortunately, that stuff happens in Hollywood, not during Rob Hoffman's early years.
Yet I loved our bus. It was quite the character.
This was no minivan: The two rows of passenger seats were really just padded benches. And instead of carpeting, the floor was black rubber. With its underpowered engine, every steep hill seemed like Mount Everest.
But the most unique feature? The raised back shelf. Today, my parents would probably have been arrested. They threw pillows and blankets onto that shelf. And that's where my younger sister Alex and I would sleep - without seatbelts - while our family drove up every Friday night to our 14-acre farm, 60 miles north of New York City. Underneath us, serving as the perfect white noise, was the rear engine that was the hallmark of Volkswagens from 30-40 years ago.
I shudder to think what a rollover might have done to us.
The fact that I'm writing this today tells you that such an event, thankfully, never happened.
We crammed all kinds of things in that bus: Small sailboats, an army of kids, elaborate model airplanes and even a sick calf. (Imagine that happening in a Dodge Caravan). But my favorite story involves parents weekend at Camp Winadu in western Massachusetts.
Because all the local hotels were booked, my dad came up with an idea. He would place a wooden plank that would run nearly the entire length of the bus, supported by both the front passenger seats and the back shelf. And on top of that plank, they would place a mattress, which would turn the bus into their own little Motel 6.
The arrangement came in handy in other ways as well. One evening, my parents attended a concert in nearby Tanglewood. For those unfamiliar with this venue, it is a summertime mecca for outdoor classical concerts. And it can get pretty crowded at times. So rather than deal with the exiting traffic, my parents simply crawled under the covers, napped for an hour or two and left the empty Tanglewood parking lot without tapping on the brakes once.
It was such a successful idea that about 10-15 years later, while I was off enjoying my adulthood, they repeated the trick at another outdoor concert.
By that time, however, the bus had finally given way. Fewer and fewer mechanics were able to figure out the foibles of the VW bus and its unique attributes all but disappeared from the automotive vocabulary. Eventually, my dad caved in and traded it in for a Vanagon, which Volkswagen began building in 1980 with such newfangled features as (gasp) power steering, air conditioning and electrical instrument panels. Now in their 70s, my parents still use it today - though only for short trips. They also don't speak about it with the same fondness as the old bus.
As for myself, I guess I did have at least one misadventure with the VW bus. I learned how to drive at its steering wheel, mastering its dodgy manual shift and even managed (small miracle!) to become proficient at parallel parking.
But at the age of 16, the bus caused me to fail my first driving test.
At one point, when we were in a cul-de-sac, my tester told me to go into reverse.
To my horror, I proceeded to back into a fire hydrant that I couldn't see through my rear view mirror because my car seat and the rear window were too high.
My ego was bruised, but the bus was fine.
Let me put it this way: I didn't have to get out and push it back to where my mom was waiting for me.
See? Hollywood isn't anything like real life.
At least my life.
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'Tis the season for giving, I guess, So I thought I would share a story with you.
You know the saying that no good deed goes unpunished?Well, just the opposiite occurred to me a few years ago. Only I didn't exactly start out trying to do a good deed. And I really didn't do it with anykind of payback in mind.
Confused? Read on.
About 4-5 years ago, I was on the road a lot covering University of Michigan basketball and football games for the Ann Arbor News. And in those days before Ipods, portable DVD players (or even laptops equipped with DVD players), that meant a lot of long flights where I could catch up on my reading.
One of the books that grabbed a hold of me was "Postville" by University of Iowa journalism professor Stephen Bloom. It was a true-life tale of a bunch of ultra-orthodox Jews who took over an eastern Iowa meatpacking plant in the titular town and the culture clash that ensued. Towards the end of the book, Bloom (a Jew himself) concludes that these outsiders areto blame for the bitter divisions in this tiny town; that their attempts to isolate themselves verge on outright hostility.
That epiphany occurred shortly after Bloom learned about the town's former doctor, Doc Wolf, whom everybody in Postville seemed to love. Wolf, who was Jewish but not practicing, regularly visite Chicago to load up on Jewish food such as pastrami, mustard and rye bread that he couldn't get in Iowa.
I loved this book. Not only because Bloom's tale of this unusual town was so fascinating, but he also wrote about what I myself had experienced in 1995 when I first came to the state as a reporter at the Ames Tribune. Like me, he moved to Iowa from one of the coasts, going from a part of the country with a thriving Jewish subculture to a part where there was almost none. There was never any anti-Semitism while I was in Iowa. Just a distinct lack of feeling comfortable, as if you were being kept at arms length because you weren't Christian.
I finished the book just before Michigan's football team was to play a road game at Iowa. And I was suddenly struck with an idea. Why don't I thank Bloom for his great bookby pulling a Doc Wolf on him? As some might know, Ann Arbor is home to one of the best Jewish delis in the nation: Zingerman's. I emailed Stephen, explaining who I was, my travel plans and offering to bring him some corned beef and rye from Zingerman's.He eagerly accepted. And on Saturday morning, just before the game, I delivered the precious cargo to Stephen, his wife Iris and his son Mikey. I was so glad I did it. They were wonderfulpeople. And it was something they truly apprecaited, I could tell.
A little less than a year later, Ann Arbor had some breaking news. University of Iowa president Mary Sue Coleman was leaving Iowa City to become the new president of the University of Michigan. Editors at the Ann Arbor News needed to send someone out to the state to discover what Michigan's new head honcho was all about. Though I was still in the sports department, they turned to me because they figured I was a former Iowan who was not only familiar with the state but would know who to interview.
Did I ever. One of the first calls I placed was to Stephen. Right after I touched down in Cedar Rapids (on the same flight as Coleman, I might add), I had dinner with him and Mikey. He gave me the full rundown of what Coleman's tenure at Iowa had been like, who liked her, who didn't like her and whom I should call to get the pithiest quotes.
It was exactly the head start I needed. Though I was in Iowa City for only one full day, I made the most of it. Yes, I covered Coleman's press conference where she explained her decision to leave Iowa and I even managed to interview her afterwards for a private Q&A. But I also talked to former presidents and professors who spoke about what made her so effective, student leaders unhappy with how she responded to the complaints about university apparel being manufactured under sweatshop conditions overseas and the local bookstore owner who talked about Coleman's weekly visits. I even managed to squeeze in a pertinent anecdote from Bloom:
"Shortly after Bloom penned the highly acclaimed book 'Postville,' about the culture clash between ultra-Orthodox Jews and residents of a tiny Iowa town, she quickly responded personally to a letter from a Cornell College religion professor demanding that the journalism professor be fired.
'While I understand that Professor Bloom's work is controversial and apparently quite offensive to you and others... University faculty enjoy broad academic freedom in their research and writing activities,' she stated.
I came home to Michigan receiving congratulations from all my editors. I had written the story with the kind of depth that similar articles from the Detroit News and Free Press had failed to accomplish. It went on to win an in-house writing award.
I continue to make Doc Wolf runs for the Bloom family whenever I am in Iowa. And yes,they are always much appreciated.
And yes, there's a moral to this story.
Never underestimate the power of corned beef.
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Who? I'm not surprised if that name doesn't ring a bell. For every big-time solo musician out there with a recognizable name and face, there are hundreds of studio musicians who labor in obscurity. Yet they are just as essential to the artist's oeuvre as the guy on the record cover himself. A perfect example: Peter Wood. If you've got an old vinyl version of the 1976 Al Stewart album "Year of the Cat," you'll find a picture of him on the inner cover. More importantly, you'll hear his beautifully understated piano solo at the beginning of the title track and throughout the song. He is, in fact, credited as the song's co-writer with Stewart. So there's a bit of trivia for you. Listen to it
Yes, Stewart's poetic lyrics have a lot to do with why this hit song was so good and kickstarted the mainstream career of this formerly obscure British folkie. So does Phil Kenzie's epic saxophone solo at the 4:12 mark. But Wood's underlying keyboards are what make it for me. My favorite music is music that I just wallow in. It describes the state I feel when I hear music by people such as Vienna Teng, Sarah McLachlan or Bill Evans. I lose track of my surroundings and just become engulfed by the song - particularly if it is in my headphones. For me, "Year of the Cat" is definitely a wallowing song. Wood would go on to work with extensively with Roger Waters, backing the Pink Floyd lead singer during "The Wall" tour and continuing with him when Waters went solo. You'll also find him on albums by Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and Cyndi Lauper (!). One of the only times Wood put himself front and center was on the soundtrack of the obscure 1982 French farce "Ils Appellent Ça Un Accident" (They Call It An Accident). Collaborating with British vocalist Jess Roden, the duo contributed two tracks. The best is the spooky-sounding Future Soon (download). No keyboard wonderfulness here, just a really nice song with a message. How it fit into the film, I don't know. I've never seen it. But I do have a cassette of the soundtrack, an Island Records release that also features contributions from the likes of Steve Winwood, Marianne Faithfull and U2. About the same time I started listening to the soundtrack (I even reviewed it in the pages of my college newspaper at Georgetown University), I was heading backstage for a concert by The Who at Madison Square Garden. (A long story that I'll get into later). My dad and I entered the elevator with a ordinary looking man in his 40s. He introduced himself to us as Peter Wood. I instantly asked him whether he was the same Peter Wood who co-wrote "Year of The Cat." A short pause. Yes, he was. I told him how much I liked the songs on "They Call It an Accident." He thanked me.
Throughout the brief conversation, there was kind of a stunned look on Wood's face. What a crazy coincidence. Here was a rock 'n' roll sessionman who had gotten used to a life of obscurity. And he happened to have stepped onto the elevator with someone who not only knew who he was, but could list some of his major accomplishments.
Not much else to the story. I didn't see him again at the concert. But I'm glad I was able to do a little fawning. Everybody deserves a moment of glory in some way.
According to Wikipedia, Wood died in late 1993. The Google research I've done indicates that the death of the 53-year-old Wood was ruled a suicide. Here's a link to a page that attempts to list all the albums and tours that featured Wood. (Who is also, for some reason, sometimes billed as "Peter Woods.")
Here's to you, Peter. Hope all is well in rock 'n' roll heaven.
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Let's see. If I were stranded on a desert island with a primo Bose audio system, a comfortable reading chair and a HD DVD attached to a home theater system and a 32-inch plasma TV (attached to the wall of the thatched hut, of course), here's what I would need.
CDs:
1 – Big Star "No. 1 Record/Radio City"
The best thing that ever happened to pure pop – 10-20 years too early.What Alex Chilton (and on the first record, Chris Bell) put together sounds just as good today.
2 – Beatles "Abbey Road"
In my mind, the penultimate Beatles disc is also the best. George Harrison came into his own here and the suite on the second side is pure aural bliss.
3 – Stan Getz/Joao Gilberto/Antonio Carlos Jobim "Getz/Gilberto"
I am a Bossa Nova freak. And even you're sick of the "Girl from Ipanema," you can't beat an album that includes the definitive version of "Desafinado" plus the wonderfully evocative "Corcovado."
4 – Suzanne Vega "Suzanne Vega"
Her first album and still the best. It got me through my senior year of college. "Small Blue Thing" is simply shattering. And the violin solo on "Undertow" sends shivers down my spine every time.
5 – Jonathan Edwards & the Seldom Scene "Blue Ridge"
I am neither a big fan of bluegrass or 70's mellow gold. But somehow this combination works superbly. Not only does Edwards make his big hit "Sunshine" shine in an unexpected way, but I could just wallow in the evocative title track.
Books:
1 – "Henderson the Rain King," Saul Bellow
I read this in a high school English class and I still go back to it. At one point or another, we can all sympathize with the title character's empty cry of "I want, I want, I want…."
2 – "Shoeless Joe," W.P. Kinsella
The book that "Field of Dreams" was based on with one crucial difference: Intead of the fictional James Earl Jones character, we get Ray Kinsella going on a cross-country odyssey with one of his (and my own) literary heroes: J.D. Salinger. I wish I were in that VW bus.
3 – "Absolute Beginners," Colin McInnes
Described by many as the British version of "Catcher in the Rye," this story of disaffected teenagers living in late 50s London isn't too obtuse for those of us across the big pond to grasp -- and thoroughly enjoy.
4 – "Jazz Country," Nat Henthoff
A rare entry into fiction by the "Village Voice" columnist, this book follows a white teenager's attempts to break into the mostly African-American world of Jazz – and have his eyes opened more than a few times along the way.
5 – "The Phantom Tollbooth," Norton Juster
To me, the most important piece of children's literature out there. Juster's sense of whimsy causes children to think in ways most books geared for them seldom do (Sorry, J.K.) Jules Feiffer's drawings are a perfect complement to the tale.
Movies
1 – Local Hero
Directed by Bill Forsyth ("Gregory's Girl"), this 1983 film still makes me smile every time I see it. Peter Riegert ("Animal House") is an oil executive sent to a quirky Scottish town to buy it out for a refinery site. One problem: With most residents clamoring to take the money and run, he falls in love with the place and doesn't want it to disappear. Also, Mark Knopfler's score is amazing.
2 – Yellow Submarine
Much to their eternal regret, the Beatles were only marginally involved in this animated film from 1968. The visuals are incredibly imaginative. And the scouse one-liners from the faux Fab Four make the absurd plot more than palatable.
3 – Ferris Bueller's Day Off
I'm sorry, but in my mind John Hughes was the auteur of the 80s. And this movie has so many little moments that make me laugh every time I see them. Plus the film explores the underlying themes of teenage life without hitting viewers over the head.
4 – Reds
I was deep into my lefttist teenager days in 1981 when I stood in line at East 59th and Third Avenue to watch the movie on its first day. I wasn't disappointed. Warren Beatty's epic didn't skimp on John Reed's extraordinary life and the scenes taking place in the early days of the Russian Revolution are more uplifting than any "Rocky" movie.
5 – Funny Face
Audrey Hepburn. Fred Astaire. George Gershwin's best songs. Could there be anything better? 'S Wonderful, indeed.
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