About Me
- Pat Barton
- My most recent single release - "My True North" - is now available on Bandcamp. Open my profile and click on "audio clip".
Saturday, October 26, 2024
The Countdown
Friday, October 25, 2024
Small Successes in Patstan
For years now, I've regularly tweaked the layout on my home page to make use of the widgets called Featured Post and Popular Posts. Sincere thanks to those of you who have clicked any of the posts that have appeared under either heading, no matter how infrequently.
Because of Blogger's robust analytics, it's easy to know how many new views these posts get. For some time, my arbitrary threshold for changing the Featured Post widget - located on the left of the home page - has been to do so after that single post gets twenty new views. When that happens, it reminds me to switch the grouping of Popular Posts - "all time", over the last year, last thirty, or last seven days - located on the right side.
I have no way of knowing how many of those views mean someone has actually read the featured post I've exhumed from my archives. But based on new comments received and offline responses, I'm often confident at least a few people are paying attention, sometimes. Call me needy; I consider this a small success, my version of getting a royalty check for .50 for a song that was popular sometime in the 60s and got some recent airplay or sold a record or two in a bargain bin in Omaha. Except, I don't get paid; oh well - details.
Unpaid royalties aside, there have been more than a few days I've been sustained by someone who reacts to an old post, featured or "popular". And though I've been tempted to edit my old work more times than I can count, it has also been gratifying when an old post gets a reaction but holds up under my scrutiny - another small success. What small successes have you recently had?
Wednesday, October 23, 2024
Coming Clean, Sort Of
Though nine evenings still remain in October, my record for most movies watched in one month has already been shattered. Lest anybody be tempted to recommend medication, I'll keep the number to myself. I will confess we're already talking double digits. Really.
Duly chastened as I am about the hours I've spent indulging my indiscriminate film jones this month, I offer two mitigating factors in meager defense. See if you can relate at all.
* I've spent over ten hours on airplanes. I had books and my journal. Mediation or listening to music were additional options. I did end up doing a little reading. But the lure of that tiny screen in my face undid me. Then, scanning the choices, I was overwhelmed, pathetically, in both directions. Watched two on the way to L.A. and one on the way home. Only one will stick: Carlos, a documentary about the incomparable Carlos Santana.
* The TV in our two week rental in L.A. dominated the living space. There was a door to the bedroom that could be shut when I played guitar, meditated, read, or wrote. However, there's a solid reason why the only TV in our home is not in our living space. If it were, it's possible I'd be regularly searching the streaming services for the latest and, in many cases, not so greatest movies. In our rental, I was thoughtlessly ensnared in that trap. Saw a few OK documentaries, went gaga watching Vera Drake - a Mike Leigh gem from 2004 - but otherwise squandered some serious time. Low point? There was significant competition for that dubious distinction, but my near-complete disillusionment with Stand By Me - a Rob Reiner film I've held in high esteem for many years - landed with a thud on a re-watch. Should have played the guitar or something.
If only I'd gone into the bedroom more vs. getting continually mesmerized by that big screen. In the meanwhile, since returning home, I will not claim total abstinence. But my film consumption is now under control again. Don't ask exactly what that means; allow me a little dignity. Besides, the record has already been broken. What's the harm now?
Saturday, October 19, 2024
Putting First Things First
Perhaps my continuing journey into Act Three is at play here. But how many of you have also noticed the disconnect that can separate introspection and optimism? For example, on days when this optimist is in a more introspective space, the probable "lasts" in my remaining life come more easily into focus than the likely "firsts". Does this make my optimism suspect? Or does it render me more realistic?
Either way, beginning when my first grandchild entered the world, I made a pledge. Each time a probable "last" crosses this introspective optimist/realist's mind - e.g., my trip to Africa this past winter might be my last - I will immediately capture an actual "first" in my journal. I've been pleased to discover how easy this has been these past two weeks. Doing it has also fortified my optimist bona fides. Directly below are three recent firsts that helped provide some ballast for three probable "lasts" that popped into my head in some recent moments of introspection. I'll spare you those gloomy bits.
* Played my first-ever applause-worthy guitar solo in an open jazz jam session.
* Was grateful having a cell phone nearby for the first time, in the hours leading up to and after the birth of my grandson.
* Had my first experience with acupuncture.
Why not join me? Doesn't matter if you consider yourself an optimist, realist, pessimist, anythingist. Also doesn't matter if you introspect more than, as frequently, or less than me. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised about the light this brings to you.
Thursday, October 17, 2024
Mike; Have You Met Anne?
Have you ever imagined having an opportunity to speak with a favorite artist about another artist you are sure they would enjoy? I suspect no regular readers will be surprised to learn this particular thought has crossed my mind frequently with respect to musicians, authors, and filmmakers.
Ever since watching Vera Drake, a 2004 treasure by director/writer Mike Leigh that somehow got by me until recently, I can't get Anne Tyler's quotidian novels out of my head. Given their respective reputations and substantial oeuvres, it's more than possible Leigh and Tyler are already aware of each other's work. But if not, I want to be the one who turns them onto each other. Before continuing, however, I have a request: If a scenario like this has occurred to you, even once, please share it with me and include your logic - no matter how far-fetched - for believing each artist would enjoy the work of the other. It would be nice to know I'm not alone on the bell curve with this.
Although Mike Leigh is hardly a household name, I'm reasonably sure many of you have seen at least one or two of his films. Secrets and Lies (1996) is arguably his most widely known, and my personal favorite. All of his films I've seen - including Vera Drake and Secrets and Lies - share an essential and under-valued quality with Anne Tyler's novels; they are quiet. His characters, like Tyler's, are not larger than life; they are life itself. Each character in Leigh's films and Tyler's novels is revealed at an unhurried pace, their strengths and flaws in equal measure. The messiness and miracles of everyday life get the same amount of attention. Car chases and crashes, intrusive music, and capital "d" drama are all blessedly missing.
Anne Tyler's novels are criminally under-represented on film. Only the adaptations of The Accidental Tourist (1985) and Breathing Lessons (1988) got much attention. My last visit to Tylerstan - a world I've journeyed to at least a dozen times since the mid 70s - was reading A Spool of Blue Thread soon after its 2015 release. I'm confident Mike Leigh would make cinematic magic out of the multi-generational story of the quirky Whitshank clan. All I need is his contact information. Anyone want to assist me?
Reflections From The Bell Curve: Anne Tyler's World
Sunday, October 13, 2024
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?
Thursday, October 10, 2024
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.
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.
Monday, October 7, 2024
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' ".
Friday, October 4, 2024
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.
Tuesday, October 1, 2024
A Muse About To Be Born
Saturday, September 28, 2024
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?
Wednesday, September 25, 2024
#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
Monday, September 23, 2024
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.
Friday, September 20, 2024
Rocky Mountain High
Though it's possible this third trip to Rocky Mountain National Park could be my last, my gratitude for having even one chance to visit here easily displaces any potential letdown. If you've never spent time in this part of heaven, I strongly recommend you add doing so to your list; you will be blown away. Picking a favorite National Park may be a fool's errand, but RMNP is clearly in the top tier.
Today's hike to the aptly named Dream Lake was a fitting coda to this week. I can't imagine anyone who could resist being moved by the resplendent beauty of this place. Can any picture hope to capture even a small fraction of its idyllic splendor? Of course not. But if either the picture below or my entreaty to visit RMNP entices you - even in the smallest fashion - I'm satisfied.
In the meanwhile, I'm soon to be Jersey-bound on a Rocky Mountain High.
Tuesday, September 17, 2024
Women of Heart and Mind
It's difficult to say what juices me most about the music courses I've been developing and delivering for over a decade. My creative life has been enhanced, my network of friends has grown, my devotion to music has deepened. Despite the significant investment of time required to develop a new course, each time one begins taking shape, the mental effort is invigorating.
My newest course - Women of Heart and Mind: A Changing Musical Landscape - is currently in its embryonic stage. I already know some of the women composers and songs I'll feature and some links I'll make connecting trailblazing musical pioneers like Carole King, Joni Mitchell, and Laura Nyro to the advent of second wave feminism. But as always, as the course moves toward its maiden voyage, songs and composers will be added and dropped. And that's where you come in.
Which women composers would you expect to hear represented in a course like this? Which songs are strongly linked in your mind to the feminist movement? I've already gotten a few solid ideas from people in my hiking group, my writer's group, my book club. Why not toss me a few of yours?
Sunday, September 15, 2024
The Historian's Annual Report
Although no one suggested we needed one, some years ago I appointed myself historian for the group of sixteen of us who met in Alaska in 2015 and have reunited somewhere in the U.S. ever since. This year, we've returned to Rocky Mountain National Park, the sight of our first reunion in 2016. That year found us based in Grand Lakes, Colorado, on the west end of the park. This year, we're in Estes Park, on the east end. Given the stunning beauty of this National Park, it hardly matters.
Over nine years as "Rogue Scholars", a few group traditions have been initiated, each one enriching our time together. Throughout the week, we all contribute to a gratitude jar by writing on post-its some things we are grateful for. These can be things about each other, about the group itself, about our current location, etc. Then, on our last night, we take turns reading aloud all the post-its. The tradition reminds each of us how fortunate we are to have found each other and to have built these lasting friendships.
We also have a book discussion on one evening of our time together. For the past three years we've linked the book to our location to help deepen our appreciation for the area we're visiting. This year's book - The Meadow - is James Galvin's moving memoir/prose poem about the changing face of Western America. I've been elevated by every book discussion this group has had and expect nothing less tomorrow night.
Playing music has been another evolving tradition helping to fortify our bond. I was able to bring my guitar along for reunion #2 in the Adirondacks, #5 in Acadia National Park, and #7 - last year - in West Virginia. Our group includes a husband and wife who also are musicians - violin and piano respectively - and this year the wife brought along her harp. I look forward to hearing her play over the coming days and also to hear the impromptu a cappella duets she frequently sings with another Rogue Scholar companion. The blend of those two women's voices has enchanted all of us many times. What a blast.
Thursday, September 12, 2024
Book Club Bonanza
This week has been a book club bonanza. In order of the riches:
* On Tuesday, my own club - now in its 8th year - met to discuss This Is Happiness, a 2019 novel by Niall Williams. Pleased to report the book - the first home run I finished in 2024 - was universally well-received. One charter member of my club - a serious reader - called it "...the best book I've read all year."
Reflections From The Bell Curve: This Is Happiness
* On Wednesday, I attended my first meeting of a club that reads only non-fiction. My tenure in this group is officially off to an auspicious start with The Spy and the Traitor (2018 - Ben Macintyre), the best non-fiction book I've read in months. Spending time with a new group of people bonded by a love of reading is an almost surefire way to keep my mojo buzzing. I'm now pleasantly anticipating next month's discussion.
* The Return by Hisham Matar was the subject this morning at my smallest club; just two of us have been meeting every month for ten years. Although memoirs have been a lower priority for me for a long time, Matar's 2016 account of his quest to learn of his father's fate in a notorious Libyan prison is worth any discerning reader's time. Muscular prose, riveting story, significant cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked political power in the modern world.
And there's more soon to come. When we re-unite tomorrow with the fourteen folks with whom we've been travelling since 2016, one of our first evening's activities will be spent discussing The Meadow. James Galvin's 1992 moving meditation on the majestic Colorado landscape and one man's relationship with the land is an ideal choice for this group given we'll be spending a great deal of our time during this eighth reunion in and around Rocky Mountain National Park. What a week for this bookworm; I'm a lucky guy. What have been some of your most recent reading riches, book club or otherwise?
" I used to think the greatest gift you could give a person was a book, but now I think it is to have a conversation about a book." - Will Schwalbe
Sunday, September 8, 2024
Thank You for Being a Friend
"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive.": Anais Nin
Though I've always been someone who has made friends easily, acknowledging how much value each friend adds to my life can never be overdone. How about you? If you could rewind your tape, would you do as I wish I could and make sure every friend you've ever had knew for sure "...a world was born when they arrived?"
It's fitting that Anais Nin's words came to me many months ago via a friend who reads my blog enough to know how little treasures like this often find their way into my reflections. After thanking her for sending me the quote, I copied the words into my blog journal with little idea how they might later be useful.
But my life is rich with friends. Months later, a different friend suggested a visit to Swaminarayan Akshardham in nearby Robbinsville, N.J. Although I had heard of this Hindu mandir (temple) - the second largest in the world - had this friend not suggested a trip there, I might never have visited it. I was awed by its majesty, ennobled by the history, and grateful for my friend's suggestion. I think I remembered to thank her and made a note in my blog journal about the experience.
The most recent link to Nin's words then occurred to me soon after returning from guitar camp at the end of August. I was perusing my blog journal and catching up with e-mail when I noticed one from another friend. This friend has been sending me great music links and lectures by trenchant cultural critics for many years. I knew it was past time to acknowledge how our long friendship has aided my development as a musician and a thinker. I wrote a torturously lengthy e-mail doing exactly that. Inspiring words, ennobling experiences, transcendent music & incisive social commentary; a few of the worlds that might not possibly have been born had these friends never arrived. Thank you all.
Thursday, September 5, 2024
Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-Three
"There's a crack in everything; that's how the light gets in."
One of my genuine pleasures in life since initiating this series in 2017 has been the search I've been on for timeless kernels like the one above. I owe this particular re-discovery to the guitar camp I attended last month. In one of the discussions following a morning meditation, a fellow student reminded me of this profound lyric from Leonard Cohen's 1992 song entitled Anthem. Context: We were discussing the value in embracing the flaws we all have as musicians.
Not long after, I was further reminded of the wisdom of Cohen's words when I had cause to re-read a post I'd published in early August a few weeks before the camp. A reader's comment from that post brought back a mantra I've long repeated to my own guitar students, i.e., "when improvising, there are no wrong notes, only notes you didn't intend to play". Which is not far from what Cohen was getting at in Anthem, albeit with more poetic finesse.
Reflections From The Bell Curve: Taking a Third Swing
What are the cracks in your life or experience that have allowed light to get in? And, do you have another Leonard Cohen lyric you'd nominate? I'd welcome hearing something you unearth that stands alone, is brief enough to be easily recalled, yet still reveals a universal truth. Given Cohen's substantial body of work and poetic sensibility, I wouldn't be surprised if several of you came up with a different lyric of his that could reasonably be called words for the ages.
Monday, September 2, 2024
Still on the Job
Which national holiday would you cite as the least celebrated? Put another way, when did you last propose a toast to organized labor? Or, when you got up today, who were you most anxious to contact to wish them well?
The last time I recall actively thinking about Labor Day was years ago when someone much younger than I declared that unions were an "obsolete" concept. Like many past conversations, I've since re-played that unsettling one in my head, persuasively and articulately demolishing the wrongheadedness of that simplistic statement. Wouldn't it be great if real life worked like that?
What actually happened was less dramatic and wholly unsatisfying. I found myself getting emotional and had trouble putting a single coherent sentence together. Perhaps the word fairness crossed my mind. I do recall thinking of my father's life as a working man and the importance of unions for him. But recounting that piece of ancient history would not have helped me deconstruct the word obsolete for the clueless individual who'd used it.
That bad-tasting, long-ago conversation had faded from memory until I got up this morning and noticed the holiday. When the memory returned, I discovered I was no longer disappointed in my inadequate response. Instead, I welcomed the memory because it broke back thoughts of my dad as well as the importance of this under-celebrated holiday. Any day I remember to honor my dad is a good day, holiday aside.
Reflections From The Bell Curve: What Holiday?
Saturday, August 31, 2024
The Magic in Words
Wednesday, August 28, 2024
A Better World
Sunday, August 25, 2024
Repayment Day
Over the thirteen-and-one half years I've been blogging - aside from my wife and daughter - there have been perhaps three dozen other regular readers who have made more than a handful of public comments here. Though I disabled the "followers" widget from my home page many years ago, I also know there have always been some other regular non-commenting non-family readers. I know that mostly because those folks have frequently communicated with me offline, in some fashion, about posts they've read.
I'm grateful to everyone in all three groups - frequent commenters (past & present), infrequent (past & present), and non-commenters. And, if you are what I've come to call a "passer-by" - comment or no comment variety - thank you for reading me today, although you can stop now. Almost everyone else: Feel free to skip the next paragraph. It is pertinent only to one person from group #1, present tense variety.
Thank you for taking eighteen minutes out of your life this morning to make comments on four of my posts. Although this is not the first time you have written more than three comments in one day, and it's not even your record for most comments made in one day, because I happened to be writing a post on a different subject as your comments arrived, I was able to notice how much time - at minimum - you spent today on a task that rewards me but gives you nothing in return.
Back to everyone from all three groups and any passers-by who ignored my earlier suggestion. If there is a way I can re-pay any of you for reading or commenting, please tell me what that is. Connecting in a small way with anyone who has taken precious time to read or comment here has been - since March 2011 - a powerful and affirming experience for me. If I'm able, I'd like to reciprocate.
Reflections From The Bell Curve: Maiden Voyage
Friday, August 23, 2024
Here I Go Again
Monday, August 19, 2024
The Sixth Inning Stretch
On my seventy-fifth birthday in November, the years 2009-2024 will represent exactly 20% of my life, i.e., five parts, each fifteen years long. When this arbitrary mathematical marker interfered with a recent meditation, I was unsure where it would take me. But as is my lifelong habit, soon after my return, I began writing. Perhaps some of you will follow me down this short four-pronged path? I found it instructive; I suspect you might as well.
* Depending on your age, divide your life into between two and five parts with an equal number of years in each part. Then, write down the years of each part, e.g., in my case, part five reads 2009 - 2024.
* Looking at the years comprising each part, do a brief automatic writing exercise, capturing the first several things that come to mind that occurred during those years. Capture as many or as few as you like but avoid overthinking, evaluating, or editing. Just write.
* Next, give each part a descriptive name/title/heading. Again, avoid over-thinking; go with your gut. If you want, you can re-name any or all of the parts after you do the final step. For example, my part five ended up being later re-named "The Post Full-Time Work Years".
* Last, try to identify at least one predominant feeling attached to what you captured in the second bullet above. Dig deep here; try to be as specific as you can. For example, I wrote "most personally satisfying" alongside part five vs. a word like "happy", which is accurate but less precise. It's possible this final piece will end up being the most challenging and most revealing for you. It was for me.
"And now a quarter of my life has almost passed, I think I've come to see myself at last."
If anyone has contact information for John Sebastian, please ask him on my behalf if he stands by the sentiment expressed in that lyric from Darling Be Home Soon, written in 1966 when he was twenty-two years old. Since Sebastian is now eighty - making twenty-two close to a "...quarter of his life..." - it's a fair question, don't you think? And how about you? Would you assert that you were able to "...see yourself..." when a quarter of your life had passed? I know I wasn't that precocious. If I shared with you my title for the second 20% of my life, i.e., from age sixteen through thirty, you'd know for sure that John was way ahead of me.
Friday, August 16, 2024
Skipping the Occasional Meal Together
Tuesday, August 13, 2024
Hypocritical Ambivalence
ambivalence: the coexistence of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action.
That dictionary definition of ambivalence perfectly describes my everyday attitude about how most of us - willingly or not - have become insidiously tethered to technology. My positive-negative toggling about this modern-day blessing/curse frequently gives me whiplash. To wit:
* I'm a blogger who lusts after readers. But ... I stubbornly resist using my cell phone for anything but the most basic tasks. I also resist giving out my always-asked-for e-mail. Unless, that is, you want the URL for my blog.
* I cherish the efficiency of bar codes at supermarkets and the ability to communicate with multiple people using a group e-mail and online resources that make research easier. But ... I'm easily triggered by the use of cell phones within nanoseconds to retrieve a factoid - before anyone has a chance to exercise their memory or otherwise use their brain - and indiscriminate dependence on any social media for commentary/punditry, and unquestioning belief in the "truth" of anything found online, e.g. Wikipedia.
* I like having a watch that tracks my steps, and GPS to help me avoid the directionally-challenged who roam among us (although I reserve the right to say it's advisable all of us should know north from south and east from west), and lots of choices of easy-to-access music and other entertainment content. But ... I really don't like the intrusive, ubiquitous beeping/buzzing/purring/meowing of watches, or automobile instrument panels, or everything, or so it seems. Quiet moments, revealing conversations, even intimate encounters are constantly at risk of being invaded by some infuriating sound or worse, a snippet of song.
I considered using my oldest series - Words That Can Haunt Me - as a way to frame my ambivalence about today's kowtowing to technology. But in the end, it's not the word ambivalence that haunts me. It's my own surrender to select pieces of the technology that prompted today's reflection. At its base, I guess it's my hypocrisy that haunts me.
Sunday, August 11, 2024
A Pesky Dilemma
Wednesday, August 7, 2024
Taking a Third Swing
Sunday, August 4, 2024
Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-Two
"Our differences do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts we've got."
Although I took two small liberties with the lyric above from I Won't Give Up (2012), my doing so takes nothing away from the message Jason Mraz delivers in his excellent song. These are seventeen words for the ages - i.e., a terse phrase that stands alone, is easy to remember, and conveys a universal truth.
And that universal truth not only applies to love. It also applies to us as a species. Imagine if people embraced and celebrated their differences - race, religion, ethnicity - as a way to teach us how to use the tools and gifts we've got. Isn't it safe to say our world would be a more humane and civil place? I have no idea if Mraz had this larger truth in mind when he composed what sounds to me like a love song. But it doesn't matter. His are words for the ages, regardless.
As always, I welcome your nominations for this series of mine, now in its eighth year. Got a different Jason Mraz lyric you think fits the criteria at the end of the first paragraph above? Or, how about a terse phrase from a song by a different songwriter? For the record, the two minor liberties I took were deleting the word "they" in front of "do" and changing "we" to "we've". Apologies, Jason.
Thursday, August 1, 2024
Scuttling Saint James Day
Every August 1 since 2012 I have proposed here the establishment of a new national holiday in a valiant attempt to rescue August from its barren state. Alas, though all my holiday proposals have been brilliant - Hallmark has a line of cards ready for each - not one has gotten enough richly deserved notice. This indignity is hard to bear in light of the massive reach of my blog. The hoi-polloi can be so fickle. How much can one holiday-inventing genius stand?
This year, I gave serious thought to proposing August 1 be heretofore declared Saint James Day - honoring my middle name - a superbly logical suggestion given the March holiday that already venerates my first. I know there is guaranteed support for this superlative notion, given the number of people sharing my noble middle moniker as a first, middle, or even last name, e.g., Henry and William - rest their souls - and LeBron. Imagine the cheering throngs. Who knows? Perhaps initiating a Saint James Day movement could have acted as an entree for my blog to finally win over reluctant sports fans who have yet to join the bell curve minions.
In the end, I concluded that proposing Saint James Day - inspired as it is - crosses an egotistical bridge too far for even this breathtaking mastermind. Instead, I decided that providing the links below for a few of my outstanding earlier proposals is a reasonable compromise. Anyone who wishes to be further dazzled just say the word and I'll forward the remaining nine to you. Resist the temptation to steal my ideas; remember the Hallmark deal.
Reflections From The Bell Curve: August 1, 2014: National Book Day
Reflections From The Bell Curve: National Immigrant Day
Reflections From The Bell Curve: National Gratitude Day
Wednesday, July 31, 2024
Becoming You
By now, even the most casual follower of my blog might have noticed that, aside from indulging my indiscriminate movie lust, I don't spend a lot of time watching TV. But for weeks now I've been talking to everyone I know about Becoming You, an exceptional six-episode series recently streamed on Apple TV. Without question, it's worth your money to pay for a one-month subscription just to watch this series alone.
Subtitled The First Two Thousand Days, with a captivating narration by Olivia Colman, the premise is brilliantly simple. Traveling around the globe, the filmmakers capture children from over one hundred nations as they approach important and universal developmental milestones. Some of my favorite moments involved learning about the impact of culture on children as they "become themselves" over their critical first five years of life.
The opening sequence - a Japanese custom called "First Errand" - will hook you, I guarantee it. But there's so much more - getting to a play date in Borneo, transportation in Mongolia, the universality of first words, how gender exerts itself. Over almost 2400 posts across more than thirteen years, this is only my second endorsement of a TV show. I hope that level of discrimination has helped me earn your trust. If you do end up watching Becoming You, I'd enjoy hearing your impressions. I'm confident others would as well.
Sunday, July 28, 2024
Crabby About Grade Inflation
As a way to alert readers whenever one of my blog posts might sound a bit crabby, beginning in 2014, I began using some form of that word - or a synonym - in the title of any such post. Over the ensuing decade I've published about twenty, an average of two per year. I'm not claiming to have been crabby about so few things over the ten years. I am human and 2016-2020, in particular, gave me a lot of material, though I have mostly stayed away from politics primarily because too many people scream too much and too loudly these days.
But when it comes to grade inflation, this crab has had enough. Specifically, how is it possible that so few books graded by readers on Goodreads have a cumulative rating lower than 3 stars, aka "I liked it"? It mystifies this curmudgeon to know how so few readers find so few books deserving just 2 stars, especially given the descriptor that accompanies that rating, i.e., "It was OK." What are these grade-inflating readers afraid of? Hurting an author's feelings, perhaps? Clearly, there are many books that are - just like many movies, many songs, many paintings, many meals, many anything - in fact, just OK.
This cranky blogger is using Goodreads only as the latest example of grade inflation, a subject that has made him cantankerous for decades. As an educator, I've had students of all abilities. But I've had few who believed they deserved a "C", i.e., an average grade. Truth be told, the overwhelming majority of students I've had thought they deserved an "A" or, at worst, a "B+". But if no one is average, of what value is a "B" or an "A"?
Thursday, July 25, 2024
Swinging With James McBride
Of course, James McBride is a musician. The prose in Deacon King Kong (2020) swings as effortlessly as Duke Ellington. The sharp dialogue has an unmistakable cadence. The interplay of the characters in this quintessential NYC novel reminded me of the way great jazz musicians listen carefully to one another when trading eight bar phrases and the laughter that frequently follows. Even the passages with an improvised feel in this book were tight.
The narrative momentum in Deacon King Kong makes it an easy book to race through; avoid doing that. Pay close attention in Chapter One ("Jesus's Cheese") when McBride introduces folks from Five Ends Baptist; their role as a Greek chorus is a crucial element in the satisfying moral symmetry of the novel. The skilled depiction of secondary characters - e.g., the Governor, Soup, Harold - felt musical to me. It was as though each took a superb guest solo and then walked off stage.
If you end up liking Deacon King Kong, go onto The Color of Water next. Ever since reading it upon its 1995 release, I've recommended that memoir to more people than any other I've subsequently finished. More McBride? The Good Lord Bird (2013) is his wild re-imagining of the life of radical abolitionist John Brown. If Deacon King Kong indeed swings like Duke, the musical analogue for The Good Lord Bird could be the controlled and inventive anarchy of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. And me? I'm onto his most recent novel, The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store (2023).
Reflections From The Bell Curve: Geeky Reading Magic
Sunday, July 21, 2024
A Satisfying Substitute
What mental picture do you have when thinking of someone meditating? I'd guess many folks would envision a person alone, eyes closed, sitting still in a quiet place, paying attention to their breathing with or without repeating a mantra, aloud or silently. On many days, that picture would closely match what my meditation practice looks like.
Several years back, my mental picture was broadened when an instructor at a retreat spoke of "a walking meditation". Ever since, there have been infrequent moments when I'm so fully present that my mind feels nearly as empty as it does when I'm sitting still and alone with my breathing. Am I meditating? I'm not sure but I do know the chatter has momentarily stopped, I'm not judging anything or anyone, and even the usual minor annoyances that sometimes trigger me - like a noisy leaf blower - somehow don't intrude on the moment. I'm clear, grateful, and quiet.
A few mornings back, sitting on my deck, one of these infrequent moments arrived unexpectedly. Perhaps it was the beautiful weather. Or maybe it was gazing at my wife's wondrous garden with all the butterflies. It could have been as simple as the cup of coffee on the table, the book in front of me, my guitar one room away. In the end, it doesn't matter because at that moment I was alive with wonder and awash in the feeling of being loved. I knew there was no need later in the day to rely on my normal meditation practice to center myself. Somehow, I'd gotten "there" without it.
Friday, July 19, 2024
I've Got Your Number (#5 - The NYC Street Version)
a.) Pursuit on 52nd St.
b.) The 53rd St. Bridge Song
c.) 57th St.
d.) Across 59th St.
e.) 110th St.
Before anyone chastises me for leaving 42nd St. from this list of scrambled titles, please recall I've used only numbers above fifty since kicking off this series early this year. Anyway, that iconic song/musical would have been too easy for this latest - perhaps final - iteration. Ready to try solving another puzzle in pop ephemera without using Google? Here we go.
Four of the five NYC street names above have been featured in pop songs beginning with a 1967 hit by Harper's Bizarre, probably the easiest of the bunch. However, none of the four "correct" street names are in the titles from the a-e list as noted. Those four street names are scrambled throughout, meaning you have to take one of the four correct street numbers and transplant it to a different title until you have four correct song titles. Hint: One of these four - when you get the right street number in its appropriate place - was also the title of a feature length film around the same time as the song.
The remaining item has a NYC street name that I can't recall ever crossing my always-on musical radar. However, the number in that item was featured in a song title from the early 1990s, bemoaning the wasteland. Final challenge? Identify that song. As with iterations #1-4, additional hints will be provided after a suitable length of time but only if necessary. Warning: There's one nerd out there who is pretty quick responding to these silly challenges but even he needed a little help at least once. So, if you're out of the box quickly, you have a shot at besting him. I'm waiting.
Tuesday, July 16, 2024
Recommended (Despite Slipping Film Bona Fides)
Back when there were just five, it was a point of pride for this movie buff to say he'd seen all the films nominated for an Academy Award before the February ceremonies. But beginning in 2010 - when the number of nominees increased to nine or ten films - I started falling behind regularly. How can I claim to be an aficionado in mid-July if there's still a 2023 nominee (Zone of Interest) I haven't seen? Worse, there are a few still-unseen nominees from 2010-2022 continually reminding me of my slipping film bona fides. The horror. (Get it?)
Despite my fall from grace, I remain confident recommending Anatomy of a Fall as a movie you don't want to miss. Although it earned a well-deserved Oscar for best original screenplay, I'll stake my claim as a cinephile - albeit a recently truant one - and say that end to end it is a better film end than 2023's winner (Oppenheimer). Every pause in Anatomy ... is beautifully modulated, every moment of silence fully earned, every screenplay cliche - including a final twist - averted. It is a 10. (There I go again.)
About the other 2023 nominees. I'll pass commenting on Barbie. American Fiction is as ambitious as The Holdovers is modest. Both films succeed, though - good as they are - I suspect neither would have gotten a nomination when only five movies got that nod. Poor Things is so over-the-top it defies description. For my money, among the nine nominees I've seen, only Past Lives approaches the subtle mastery of Anatomy of a Fall, both in sharp contrast to the bloated bombast of the two over-hyped marquee messes I wrote about in late January.
Don't want to disappoint anyone waiting for a film reference at the end of this post. How's this? The geek abides.
Reflections From The Bell Curve: A Decade of Crabbing
Saturday, July 13, 2024
Two Pieces of Mind
Wednesday, July 10, 2024
The Gloves Are Off
Over thirteen years and almost 2400 blog posts, I've exercised superhuman restraint with respect to how often I've bragged here about my daughter's professional accomplishments. Today the gloves are off. Feel free to tune out right now if two short paragraphs of effusive gushing about her strikes you as unseemly. But before doing so, ask yourself these questions: Have you ever met a parent who wasn't proud of their kids? Would you want anything to do with such a parent?
As much as her move to Los Angeles last July pained me, it appears that my daughter's professional instinct about the need to be closer to the epicenter of show business - her chosen field since the 5th grade - was wise. Damn it, anyway. In less than a year, her career as a writer and director has rocketed to a new level. Aside from two feature-length films in development, including one she created and co-wrote with her writing/directing partner, her current contracted gig represents the culmination of more than ten years of hard work trying to break through in the wacky industry she chose.
My daughter and her partner - collectively called BONABART- are presently part of a team of seven in what's called a writer's room, all of them at work on a TV series that features two marquee actors. I'd name the actors but my daughter wouldn't be happy with me publicly crossing that line until after the series has its debut. All the better: You'll have to check back in for my next round of gushing.
ALISON BARTON (hialisonbarton.com)
Sunday, July 7, 2024
Science and Faith
Thursday, July 4, 2024
Declarations on Independence Day
As someone prone to criticize but slow to praise the United States, today seems an ideal day to reverse that paradigm. Taking anything for granted, even a country, is short sighted. Join me. What are your declarations on Independence Day?
* I'm proud of the bill of rights and especially partial to the first amendment declaring freedom of religion, speech, press, and assembly. For all our arguments, where would we be without those freedoms?* While on the Constitution, I'm real fond of the checks and balances established there. Anytime one of the three branches lets me down or oversteps its bounds, it's nice to know the other two are there to provide ballast. It's a pretty cool set-up, don't you think?
* Though I know it's hokey and, I'm also aware lots of people were dragged here against their will, I'm proud of how the U.S. continues to (mostly) welcome people from all over the world. Lots of challenges go with that "give us your tired..." motto, but July 4th reminds me how this country has made that work as well as most.
Tuesday, July 2, 2024
A Wonderful & Surprising Re-Entry
There's no question that growing up with the Temptations music helped to make Ain't Too Proud To Beg a peak Broadway experience. If Covid hadn't shut down the world soon after I saw it in February 2020, it's possible I would have made my first-ever return visit to a show.
Because my exposure to Alicia Keys's music has been quite limited, my enthusiasm about seeing Hell's Kitchen was muted. But I'm always up for hearing new music and I'd been blown away recently when a friend introduced me to an all-vocal version of Empire State of Mind featuring just Keys. Still, my last Broadway show had been over four years ago and that one had me reliving my early musical life with the Temps.
My ambivalence dissipated the moment Hell's Kitchen began. If jukebox musicals are your jam, this is a show to see. Anchored by Keys's infectious music, the dynamic singing and electrifying choreography brought new life to an oft-told story of a young person finding herself. I was never out of the spell and moved several times, first by the Act One closer - Perfect Way to Die. The penultimate song - No One - re-purposed as a mother/daughter duet, and the rousing finale, Empire State of Mind, were unimprovable. My new experiences with the latter have catapulted it into the musical stratosphere alongside some of my all-time favorites.
I'd enjoy hearing your reaction if/when you see Hell's Kitchen. What a wonderful and surprising re-entry to the Great White Way this was for me.
Friday, June 28, 2024
Conversational Hell
Monday, June 24, 2024
Miracles of the Natural World
Thursday, June 20, 2024
Degrees of Darkness
Each of us has our own definition of what constitutes dark, be it a book, a film, a conversation, etc. Differing definitions aside, I've learned the hard way that it's sometimes wise to issue warnings. The book I'm recommending today - if not capital "D" dark - will never appear on anyone's list of light reads.
"He doesn't plan these things. He only acts and each action remains separate and complete in itself: the fucking, the killing, the shitting, the eating. They could come in any order at all. No one is prior to or superior to the rest."
Since finishing The North Water weeks ago, I've vacillated about breaking my longstanding practice of avoiding offensive language here. But that graphic passage - a succinct distillation of the psychopath inhabiting Ian McGuire's 2016 novel - seems to me an ideal way to help any reader decide if they want to spend time with this book. Is it dark? If you choose to read it, you decide. Is it narratively thrilling? It is. Is the choice of third person voice perfect? Yes. Is it compelling from first sentence ("Behold the man.") to last? Without question. This is Melville without the sidebars, Cormac McCarthy without the nihilism, Donald Ray Pollock without the grotesquerie, entwined in a primal tale pitting evil vs. less-than-heavenly.
Although I'm often uncertain when finishing a book how long it will stay with me, I had no doubt after reading the final sentence of The North Water that this story of survival at any cost would be with me for some time. I remain haunted.
"He feels a moment of fear, and then, in its wake, as the fear fades and loses its force, an unexpected stab of loneliness and need."
Monday, June 17, 2024
Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-One
"Love shows that God has a sense of humor."
Since the advent of the written word, writers of every variety have tried to define love. Which of those definitions have come closest for you?
Though more a comment than a definition, the words that open this post - from a Joe Jackson song entitled Stranger Than Fiction - nail an essential and enduring truth about love. Although Jackson's lyrics are an acquired taste, I believe this terse nugget snugly fits the criteria for words for the ages: it has the ring of lasting truth, is brief enough to be easily recalled, and stands alone. And the lyric that sets up this gem has the sardonic edge Jackson is known for: "And when love grows, it's like a flower or a tumor."
Got another Joe Jackson lyric you'd nominate as words for the ages? Or, getting back to love, how about a lyric by a different composer you think comes close to capturing that hard-to-define word?
Sunday, June 16, 2024
Grandpa Hits the Jackpot
Thursday, June 13, 2024
Suffering School
Monday, June 10, 2024
Questions from the Seesaw
Thursday, June 6, 2024
My Day & My Dad's Day, Eighty Years Apart
A little while ago, after getting out of my comfortable bed and putting on some clean, dry clothes, I brushed my teeth. I then had a simple breakfast - juice, toast, hot coffee. I'm now looking forward to enjoying my day.
I don't know what my Father climbed out of on the morning of June 6, 1944 but I'm guessing it wasn't real comfortable. Wouldn't be at all surprised if he skipped brushing his teeth that morning. If his clothes were clean or dry when he put them on, they didn't stay that way for long. Breakfast? K-rations, perhaps. Juice or coffee? Unlikely.Though I can't imagine what the rest of my dad's day was like on Normandy Beach eighty years ago, I'm quite certain he wasn't looking forward to it. I will never experience anything even remotely like what he did that day. Writing this to honor what he lived through is not enough. But it's the best I've got to offer this moment. And I owe him - and all the others who were on that beach that day - at least that much.
Tuesday, June 4, 2024
A Lingering Tidbit
Saturday, June 1, 2024
I've Got Your Number (#4)
Thursday, May 30, 2024
May 30, 1920
Even though both have been gone many years, I'm still struck each year when the birthday of one of my parents comes around. I'm certain I'm not alone in this regard. If you are lucky enough to still have your parents with you, I hope you honor them regularly, on birthdays and otherwise.
Although I don't know anyone with a parent who is one hundred and four - the age Mom would be had she lived to this day - I know several people with parents doing reasonably well despite their advanced age. I have one friend who turns ninety-four later this year and my list of active friends who are eighty and older continues to grow each year. I lost my mother way too soon.Wednesday, May 29, 2024
Another Keeper
Immediately after leaving the full-time work world in 2010, I committed to the practice of keeping a book journal. For those of you who do the same - no matter how long you've been doing so - tell me: What have you learned about yourself, books in general, your reading tastes, or anything else, via your book journal?
One starting prompt I frequently use in my journals is "How did I come to this book?". Weeks back, while beginning an entry for William Boyd's Trio (2020) using that prompt, I recalled my book club's muted reaction to a Boyd spy thriller I'd read and enjoyed a great deal entitled Waiting for Sunrise (2012).
And my journal entry for that earlier book brought back to me - full force - the intensity of my reaction to Brazzaville Beach (1990), my first exposure to Boyd, soon after I started my book journal practice. In that moment - before starting to write about Trio - I realized how my practice has enriched me in several ways. When a book knocks me out - as Brazzaville Beach did - and I take the time to capture why in my journal, that author gets more firmly rooted in my memory. I usually return, more than once, as I have with William Boyd. And, re-reading a rapturous entry - like the one I wrote about Brazzaville Beach - brings back that rapture. What a gift that is.
Finally, later journal entries for books by the same author are often informed and frequently shaped by earlier ones. Put another way, writing about my reaction to a book deepens my discernment as a reader. For example, here's part of my entry for Trio: "Not quite as masterful as Brazzaville Beach or as suspenseful as Waiting for Sunrise but engaging and enjoyable end-to-end. William Boyd is a keeper."
Saturday, May 25, 2024
That Name Thing
"I'm so bad with names."
How many times have you heard someone say that? Better yet, how recently did you hear someone say it? If you've been in a social situation with more than a few people recently, even money you heard at least one person say it then. Was it you who said it? How is it possible for so many people to be so bad with names?
I don't believe it is possible. There are clearly a small minority of people who have a facility for recalling names. No doubt, a similar small minority exist who truly struggle with it. That leaves the rest of us in the middle. We repeatedly tell ourselves we're bad with names. We say it to others who say the same thing back to us. We frequently think it - or even say it - near to the moment when someone is first introducing themselves. Anyone detect a pattern yet in this textbook case of self-fulfilling prophecy?
If our attention is anywhere else in the precise moment when a person new to us first says their name, the chance we will recall that name is close to zero. The many memory techniques we've been exposed to - association, using a pneumonic, repeating a name back soon after learning it, etc. - are all helpful and well tested. But no technique can replace 100% laser-focused attention in the moment. Total focus on only the name being said guarantees nothing. But if our minds are anywhere else in that moment - including how bad we are with names - we're destined to forever continue saying how bad we are with names.
Wednesday, May 22, 2024
Words for the Trash Can
Since May 2017 I've published thirty blog posts under the heading Words for the Ages, each featuring a short phrase lifted from a song lyric. All the phrases I've selected capture what I feel is some universal truth. My criteria have remained the same for seven years: The phrase must be terse enough to be easily remembered and also able to stand alone, i.e., not necessarily dependent on a rhyme to complete the pithy thought being expressed. And each time I've ask for your nominations of other lyrics from whichever songwriter I've featured.
Today I'm making a different request. Please nominate a terse lyric - by any songwriter - that you feel can top the bolded one directly below for wrongheaded arrogance. Think of this as the antithesis of words for the ages. Words for the trash can, perhaps?
"Everybody knows the world is full of stupid people."
The first thing I wondered months back upon hearing Ryan Hamilton's obnoxious pronouncement in his otherwise OK song Banditos was how old he was. Early in my reflections, it's likely I was giving this up-and-coming songwriter the benefit of the doubt via recalling some of the stupid things I said - maybe even thought - in my young adult years, although even then I didn't pen a lyric that dumb. Then as more time went by, the "everybody" in this lyric began gnawing at me. Aside from being reliably inaccurate, the lazy use of absolutes signals to others a writer who has trouble with nuance. In a young person, this is troubling. In an older person, inexcusable.
Age aside, did Hamilton have his tongue in his cheek when he wrote this phrase? I hope he did. Still, I've made it my mission to steer clear of the close-minded, black & white, misanthropic people who have a worldview that lines up with his boneheaded lyric. I'll not be accepting a lunch invitation from Mr. Hamilton anytime soon.
Sunday, May 19, 2024
Prolonging a Reading Experience
A good friend and fellow bookworm recently remarked how certain books beg to be discussed. Only later did it occur to me that a book that doesn't beg to be discussed is - almost by definition - probably not worth reading in the first place.
Siri Hustvedt's 2015 novel What I Loved is packed with provocative ideas. The critical elements like narrative momentum, organic character development, and strong sense of time/place are masterfully handled. But it's the depth of the author's insights - about grief, loyalty, the fickle NYC art scene, friendship, disillusionment, redemption - that will compel you to find others who have finished this treasure so that you can discuss it.
"We manufacture stories, after all, from the fleeting sensory material that bombards us at every instant, a fragmented series of pictures, conversations, odors, and the touch of things and people. We delete most of it to live with some semblance of order, and the reshuffling of memory goes on until we die."
I hope that passage acts as further enticement for you, one example of the muscular prose infusing this novel of ideas. When the friend who made that remark about books begging to be discussed also said she felt smarter reading What I Loved, her words rang true. If you end up reading it, please reach out to me here or otherwise. The one discussion I've already had about it was great, but I'd welcome prolonging this exceptional reading experience indefinitely.
Thursday, May 16, 2024
Preservation Vs. Progress
Although I've resisted being a fatalist most of my life, the conflict between preservation of the natural world and the inexorable march of man-made progress seems to be an insoluble one. And the most disheartening aspect of this insoluble conflict? Choices I routinely make that land squarely on the side of progress despite claims that the preservation of the natural world is sacred to me.
It's easy to label others as hypocrites when they say one thing and do the opposite. It's also intellectually lazy doing so if we don't routinely examine our own choices and see how well they line up with what we claim are our values. For example, if the natural world is that sacred to me, how to reconcile my use of an automobile? I let myself off the hook occasionally because I've embraced the use of a hybrid vehicle. I also choose often to walk or ride my bike locally in place of driving. But in this instance, progress - embodied by the automobile with its demonstrably negative effect on the environment - clearly has the upper hand over the natural world. Like many people, my way of coping with this disconnect - as well as others that plague me in the preservation vs. progress dichotomy - is to rationalize. I live in the modern world, not the horse-and-buggy era, automobiles are an inescapable part of life, blah, blah, blah. Who am I kidding, aside from myself? Inescapable?
Meanwhile, I can hear the realists/pragmatists/empiricists from here in the cheap seats. That chorus screams: Get real, Pat; find some middle ground, tree hugger; get out of the way of man's dominion, dreamer. Though I haven't yet surrendered, each uncomfortable compromise I make to accommodate progress at the expense of the loss of more of the natural world hurts a little more than the last.