Applying The Heat Shield

Going on the bizarre theory that houses are easier to cool if the heat is kept out of them to begin with, I finally got around to installing a radiant barrier on our garage door. I got the idea last year when looking at solutions for our attic heat. A lot of university cooperative sites were steering people away from powered cooling (gable fans, for instance) in favor of passive solutions, like radiant barriers. Radiant barriers reflect heat back into space, before it can seep into the conditioned part of your house. I’d like to do the whole attic, but a test was needed first. The garage door is a good candidate for a radiant barrier, as it faces due west and gets cooked by the afternoon sun.

Applying the barrier wasn’t hard at all. It’s essentially bubble wrap covered by aluminum foil. All I had to do was cut it to fit the panels of my door. The barrier fit so snugly into the door panels that they didn’t even need to be fastened.

The results were immediately obvious. As I insulated panel after panel, I could feel the source of heat – the hot door – disappearing. An hour later, I had 95% of the door covered in foil. The windows are the only remaining problem, the sun’s rays still burn right through them.

Radiant barriers aren’t cheap. The 2′ x 25′ roll I used for the door cost around $23. Still, but the radiant barrier seems like a good candidate for the attic, especially considering our air conditioner can’t keep our house cool on hot summer days. If a barrier can cut the attic temperature from 140 degrees to 100, it will make a world of difference in our summertime comfort.

Gunslinger Followup

I think I may have solved the Curious Case of the Nighttime Gunshots. At a Memorial Day neighborhood party, a neighbor who’s a golfer sounded convinced it was the owner of Cheviot Hills golf course. He told me the owner is an older gentleman who owns the lone house out there. He thinks the guy picks up his rifle and takes an occasional shot at the rabbits and deer that are on his property.

Since the course is on county property and not in the city limits, he’s probably within his rights to shoot his gun. That doesn’t make me any happer that he’s doing it at 1 AM, though. Maybe I’ll have a friendly, neighbor-to-neighbor chat with him sometime and suggest he consider other, safer ways of passing the time.

Like golf, for instance.

Afghanistan Isn’t Safe For Dog Washers

The paper this morning carried news of riots in Afghanistan (remember Afghanistan? How we cleaned it up and all?), allegedly in response to abuses by the U.S. military. While the military is unfortunately used to being seen as the bad guy around there, I was stunned to learn the other target of their fury.

They were chanting “death to dog washers!” Yep, dog washers.

Apparently dog washers are the worst scum of the earth in Afghanistan, which leads me to wonder: what about the dirty dogs? Here in ‘Merica, dirty dogs are pretty low. You call someone a dirty dog, them’s fighting words. So do Afghanis consider clean dogs to be worse?

“I hate you,” screamed one protestor in my imagination. “You … you washed your dog!”

I just don’t understand the Middle East.

Hip, Hop, Hippie

I’ve been listening to the online radio station Party Radio USA. It’s got some great old-school dance music. Check it out, yo.

Rapper’s Delight
Sugarhill Gang

I said a hip hop,
Hippie to the hippie,
The hip, hip a hop, and you don’t stop, a rock it
To the bang bang boogie, say, up jump the boogie,
To the rhythm of the boogie, the beat. Continue reading →

Rumble, Rumble, Boom, Boom, Boom

I got home yesterday just in time for the fireworks. A fierce thunderstorm rolled through, pummelling our house and dumping buckets of rain and deadly lightning bolts. The weather station says half an inch of rain fell, but it sure seemed like more.

The storm did some damage to the area. A number of trees were blown down a mile or two south of us. Power lines fell over I-540 near Capital Boulevard. Nearby businesses and homes were without electricity for hours as crews repaired the fallen lines.

Our power flickered a few times but never went fully out. Our biggest problem was lightning. A bolt hit so close to the house that it left no gap between the flash and deafening thunder. We all dove for the floor! I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to lightning and I don’t care to be again. We’ll have to check our backyard trees carefully to see if any got roasted.

More fun might be in store for this afternoon. At least we’re getting the rain.

Adventures In Airport Security

I made a day trip to DC on Tuesday. I was waiting in line at airport security as two ladies in front of me were getting screened. They were obviously country-come-to-town, being quite unfamilar with the rigamarole involved with modern-day, police-state airport screening.

One woman walks through the metal detector while still decked out head to toe with jewelry.

Bzzzt! The screener motions her back and asks that she shed some of her jewelry. Off the jewelry comes, leaving a necklace and earrings.

Bzzzt! She fumbles for a bowl to put the necklace and earrings into.

Bzzzt! A long line of bleary-eyed travelers roll their eyes. The screener gives her a look like she’s a bad puppy.

“Oh,” she answers. “It must be my leg! I have a steel rod in my leg.”

Um, don’t you think that might have been good to mention ten minutes ago?! Did you think the metal detector would just get used to you? How long has your leg been with you, ma’am? I mean, it doesn’t take an Einstein to know that no amount of jewelry’s gonna fix this problem.

Sheesh. You can’t take some people anywhere.

Maxwell and Mosher Respond

Ken Mosher and Tom Maxwell of the Maxwell/Mosher band took issue with my reaction to the David Menconi article detailing the Squirrel Nut Zippers’ rise and fall. Whether or not its true (and I never said it is), the article seems to paint Maxwell and Mosher as the bad guys and takes a more sympathetic view of Whalen, if only because it includes more of her quotes. I reread the article again and still believe this to be the case.

Fortunately, Maxwell and Mosher took the time to provide their side of the story. Here’s Mosher’s comment and here’s Maxwell’s. Gentlemen, if you’d like to write a more detailed account, I would be happy to publish it.

While the Zippers are firmly a thing of the past, I’m glad there’s still good music being made in the Triangle.

Bruddah IZ – Over The Rainbow

From the author Jack Boulware’s upcoming book on Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.

Honolulu, two a.m. Music producer Jon de Mello is sleeping when the phone rings. It’s Israel, one of the artists he represents for his Mountain Apple record label. And Israel is wide awake. He often has problems at night because his weight upwards of 700 pounds forces him to sleep while hooked up to an oxygen tank. He tells de Mello he wants to record, right now.

“You got transportation?” asks de Mello. It’s difficult for Israel to move around, he needs a few people to help him get dressed, get in and out of places. The studio is about 15 minutes away.

“Yeah,” says Israel. “My guys are here.” “Get in the car,” says de Mello. “I’ll meet you over there.” In the car, de Mello wonders what he wants to record. They’ve been discussing a bunch of possibles from a songbook. But it’s Israel, you never really know for sure what he’s going to do. A traditional Hawai’ian hula. A John Denver song. A theme from a TV show. Could be anything.

A young engineer named Milan Bertosa sits in his recording studio, waiting. He was planning to go home, until some Hawai’ian guy with a lot of letters in his name called up and wanted to record something right away. It’s late, Bertosa is tired, but the voice was insistent, saying he only needed half an hour. A knock at the door, and there stands an unimaginable sight. De Mello, whom Bertosa recognizes, stands about five foot two and 100 pounds. Next to him, the largest man he’s ever seen, a gargantuan six-foot-six Hawai’ian carrying a ukulele. De Mello introduces the two, they get Israel situated in a chair, and Bertosa starts rolling tape.

Israel leans into the microphone, says: “Kay, this one’s for Gabby,” and begins gently strumming the uke. His beautiful voice comes in, a lilting “Oooooo,” then slips into the opening words of “Over the Rainbow,” from “The Wizard of Oz.” Bertosa listens behind the glass, and within the first few bars knows it’s something very special. He spends most of his time recording lousy dance music. This is otherworldly. An incredibly fat man, elegantly caressing a Hollywood show tune, breaking it down to its roots, so sad and poignant, yet full of hope and possibility. Halfway through the tune, Israel spirals off into “What a Wonderful World,” the George David Weiss/Bob Thiele hit made famous by Louis Armstrong, then melts back into “Over the Rainbow.” He flubs a lyric, and tosses in a new chord change, but it doesn’t matter. It feels seamless, chilling. Israel plays five songs in a row, then turns to de Mello and says, “I’m tired and I’m going home.” “Gets up and walks out,” says de Mello. “Ukulele and a vocal, one take. Over.” Israel never played the song again.

When Israel and de Mello began piecing together his 1993 album Facing Future, they added the demo tape of “Over the Rainbow.” Upon release the song took on a life of its own. The familiar melody played in hotels and on rental car radios, in restaurants and bars. Many were moved to tears. If it didn’t give you “chicken skin,” you were legally dead. The song resonated even more for locals. Some heard its kaona, or hidden subtext, to reflect the sadness Hawai’i felt about having its lands illegally annexed by the United States in 1898. Those who had seen him in concert knew he ended each show with the words, “My name is Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, I am Hawai’ian.” Israel was one of only 1,500 full-blooded Hawai’ians left in the world. He was pure, and so was the recording. It bounced around the islands for the next three years.

And then one afternoon, Santa Monica KCRW radio host Chris Douridas cued up “Over the Rainbow” as part of his program “Morning Becomes Eclectic,” to cheer up listeners on a rainy day. After it faded out, Douridas announced the 800 phone number on the back of the Facing Future CD. In two days, Mountain Apple received over 2,000 calls from southern California, people crying and asking about the music, many of them stuck on the freeway when they heard it.

Movie producer Martin Brest bought the rights for use in his film, “Meet Joe Black.” As the end credits rolled, movie audiences stayed in their seats to listen to “Over the Rainbow.” One of America’s most recognizable melodies, first made popular by Judy Garland, the tune had always embodied optimism, depicting a world where dreams really do come true. Israel’s version was something else entirely: haunting and delicate, stripped down to a lone voice and a ukulele, an unexpected minor chord contrasting, almost unconsciously, against the happy lyrics of wishing upon a star. After the film’s premiere in Hawai’i, people were sobbing in the theater.

Producers bought the very same song for “Finding Forrester,” “Made,” “The Big Bounce,” and “50 First Dates,” for episodes of “ER,” “Providence,” “Charmed,” and “Party of Five.” It aired in an eToys ad during the Super Bowl, and then commercials throughout Japan, Europe, Australia, New Zealand. Although most listeners couldn’t remember the name of the artist, it didn’t matter. The music was most important, that raw, perfect-pitch voice that hit people right in the heart, touched their emotional core, reminded them how fragile life can be. You heard it once, you never forgot it.

“Rainbow” came to personify Hawai’i to the outside world. Celebrities publicly announced their love of Israel’s music: novelists, actors, directors, baseball players, sumo wrestlers. Bruddah IZ was the state’s first artist in history to have an album certified gold. Posters and calendars of his face decorated record stores around the world. “Over the Rainbow” became the No. 1 bestselling song downloaded from the World Music section of iTunes. Israel had produced the most recognizable and beloved Hawai’ian song in 50 years. And he didn’t live to see any of it.