Initiation to the Miracle of Music

I always made it my mission to surround my daughter with music, beginning the day we brought her home from the hospital as an infant. From then on, whenever we were in the car, a CD or cassette (remember those?) was playing, or the radio - pre-Satellite and Internet iterations - was on. Although recorded music was not always on at home, my guitar was never out of reach and I frequently played for her, almost from the start. One of my most cherished memories from her childhood occurred soon after I recognized her singing potential. 

I was casually accompanying her on They Can't Take That Away from Me. In the repeat of the middle section, my seven or eight-year-old lifted an improvised turn from Sarah Vaughn's version of that well-known Gershwin classic. Right after doing so, she stopped singing and asked me -"Daddy, where did that come from?"  I explained that she'd been continually listening to Sarah, Ella, Billie, and many others for her whole life and that, sooner or later, something like this was bound to happen. I will never forget that moment of musical magic. And now, I get another chance.   

Although I did not bring him home from the hospital, within twenty minutes of first holding him two days after he was born, my grandson's musical education began in earnest. The good news? Because of Internet radio - and the twenty plus flawless stations I've created over the last fifteen years - I can expose him to whatever I want, whenever I'm holding him, wherever we happen to be. I can curate tune-by-tune from every genre, at any tempo, helping to ensure he's endlessly eclectic when he begins choosing his own music later in life. No more reliance on sometimes sketchy DJs, no more worries about a cassette flaking out or no CD player available, no more needing to be in a car. If a computer and Blue Tooth are nearby (when are they not?), he and I will be consistently co-joined in musical heaven. Want to guess what Gershwin song and which version I picked to initiate him to the miracle of music? Will lightning strike twice? How can it hurt to try?    

I Vote Because

 "I vote because..."

How would you finish that prompt?

I'm not sure how many different endings I've created for it since my local activist group first linked up with Vote Forward. At a recent meeting, I was gratified to learn that Vote Forward - in partnership with local activist groups like mine all over the U.S. - has encouraged over 37 million people to vote since 2018. The sample letters and instructions are provided to anyone who wants to get involved. Visit their website; it's not too late. 

Vote Forward (votefwd.org)

The final Vote Forward push in this election cycle is aimed at under-represented voters in the swing states. I mailed forty letters just before leaving home to welcome my new grandson into the world. Doing so felt right because the energy I'm putting in right now aligns with my growing concern about the fragility of our democracy and the potential impact voter suppression could have on his future. Working with Vote Forward the last six years and assisting the League of Women Voters in their voter registration drives since 2020 are two ways that have helped me put into action my belief in the importance of voting. 

For the record, in my latest group of letters, I finished the prompt as follows: "I vote because I want to honor those who came before me and were denied the right to vote." As a student of history, I was satisfied making my plea this way. I hope it speaks to at least one potential voter who receives it. 

   

James

James is the best novel released in 2024 that I have read so far in 2024.

What a relief it is to make that statement without any concern about being overly praiseworthy. After reviewing my book journal, I couldn't locate another 2024 novel finished between January-September that closely rivals Percival Everett's re-imagining of Huckleberry Finn told through the lens of Jim. 

"...where does a slave put anger? We could be angry with one another; we were human. But the real source of our rage had to go without address, swallowed, repressed."  

My insatiable hunger for books combined with the pledge I made in 2011 to publish posts about only the ones that move me has sometimes made it challenging to find fresh ways to say "wow". No such challenge when it comes to James. This is exceptional literature.

"I hated the world that wouldn't let me apply justice without the certain retaliation of injustice."   

Having so many discerning readers in my life is a gift I do not take for granted. To any of those folks who happen to be reading this post and recommended James to me - I owe you one. Wow.

" 'And who are you?' 

'I am James'

'James who?' 

'Just James' ".

 

Dilemma #1

Right around the time he was born last night, I began reflecting on what the world might be like in 2098, the year my new grandson is the same age I am now. Those of you with grandchildren: Ever let your mind wander this way? What have you envisioned?

When any of my reflections began meandering toward a doomsday scenario of any stripe, I willed myself to return to hope. And I quickly discovered the best way to do that was by focusing on the certainty that the unknowable future my grandson will live through - calamities aside - will continue to produce memorable literature and music, both of which have given me immeasurable joy. Thus, my first dilemma as a grandfather: Tomorrow - when I'm with him for the first time - do I read a book before or after the first song I play?    

But back to 2098. Will people still be listening to George Gershwin's music seventy-four years from now?  I believe they will - more cause for hope. Will Oliver Twist's story continue to enchant readers? I think it will. Isn't thinking about the lives of our grandchildren through the filter of memorable music & literature preferable to wondering if wars will ever end, etc.? 

I'm sticking with this plan. 

A Muse About To Be Born

Egotistical impulses aside, I do try to resist re-reading my older posts. However, the pleasant surprises that frequently await me when I do so - a turn of phrase that satisfies, an insightful comment from a reader, and most rewarding, recalling what inspired a post in the first place - sometimes reinforce my solipsistic urges. Closing the confession booth now. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the inspirations I'm referring to often spring from a conversation or some kind of interaction with one of the many people who enrich my life. When one of those people recently described how becoming a grandparent is guaranteed to transform me, her words moved me to tears. I wondered: Will my imminent membership in a club that everyone reveres - days away now - become my newest source of inspiration? Based on what happened when my daughter entered the world and how much she has brought to my life since 1989, I'm reasonably sure it will. 

Here's something I anticipate with joy. Years from now, I'll stumble across an old post - maybe this one? - celebrating my first grandchild. I'll then be driven to do a search using "grandchild" as the keyword. Several dozen posts will pop up. I'll re-read them all and feel no guilt about it.  

Editorializing

Is it possible these days to speak without editorializing? 

The older I get and the more closely I pay attention to my own words and the words of others, the more I've come to believe that editorializing is fast becoming a nearly inescapable fact of human communication. Consider the following:

* The load many everyday words and expressions now carry - e.g., "choice", "identity", etc. - and how frequently more words are added and become similarly loaded.    

* The way our increasingly partisan media exacerbates the issue, endlessly repeating sound bites filled with those same loaded words, nuance be damned. 

* The ubiquity of 24/7 screens in almost every public and private space, further compounding the issue by isolating us as well as promoting allegiance and respectful interaction to only those with whom we agree.  

How will younger people who have been educated in this screen-saturated world learn how to break free and communicate without editorializing? How can the older folks among us make a difference in this arena with the time we have left?

   

#32 (On My Way to 100)

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Always on the Lookout

Given just five authors have been added to my list in two years, it appears the strategy I announced in the 2022 post above was well considered. At my current pace, I will still be well under 100 "favorite" authors in my centennial year. I wonder who else might ascend into my pantheon between now and 2049. More to the point, how likely is it that I'll still be blogging as my first century comes to a close? I guess we'll see.  

For those keeping track, on the strength of The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store, James McBride now holds author position #32 on my venerated, non-hierarchal list. Not only is this the third McBride title in a row that has knocked me out, this 2023 powerhouse also holds the dubious distinction of being my longest ever book journal entry. I couldn't stop gushing/writing; I wanted to hold onto this reading experience as long as possible. 

"Chona had never been one to play by the rules of American society...To her the world was not a china closet where you admire this and don't touch that. Rather she saw it as a place where every act of living was a chance for tikkun olam, to improve the world. The tiny woman with the bad foot was all soul." 

McBride's gift for creating memorable characters like Chona is surpassed only by his generous heart. If you read just one book this year, consider making it The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store. Please. 

 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Swinging With James McBride

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Reading Re-Cap: 2020

Stay Tuned

Ever heard of Shane Atkinson? 

I hadn't either until watching LaRoy, Texas. Soon after arriving back home, I had to know who wrote the screenplay for the film I'd watched on my flight. After learning Atkinson had also directed this little gem, I knew his was a name worth remembering. The last film written and directed by the same person that impressed me this much was The Fabulous Baker Boys. For anyone taking notes, Steve Kloves was responsible for that 1989 treasure. 

Given how frequently over-hyped marquee movies disappoint me (Maestro or Killers of the Flower Moon, anyone?), being pleasantly surprised by something I never heard of is such a treat. I'm guessing Atkinson has seen Fargo more than once - who hasn't? - but the Coen-ish comedy-noir tone he juggles expertly in LaRoy, Texas did not strike me as derivative. Also, his casting of the criminally under-used Dylan Baker as a vicious killer and Steve Zahn as a hapless private eye is nearly perfect. I was less impressed by John Maguro in the lead role, though he held his own until his final scene, the only place this movie let me down.  

The best part? Because my daughter is part of a writer/director team beginning to make inroads in the wacky film industry, movies like LaRoy, Texas and The Fabulous Baker Boys - as well as the reputation of the Coen Brothers - all give me hope. Stay closely tuned and I'll be sure to let you know when you can start looking for her name, as I did for Shane Atkinson's.