My Favorite Holiday

I require neither an excuse nor permission to be weird. But October 31 is the one day each year even the most buttoned-up can let it rip. How did you transform yourself today? If you didn't, why not?

OK, if you didn't get weird today, here are two ideas for next Halloween. If you use either in 2025, make a note to return here and give me a report on how it went. It's OK to steal my stuff but at least have the decency to let me know the results. 

* Have you lived in a well-established neighborhood a long time and paid enough attention through the years to how your neighbors dress? How about a neighborhood party - definitely want to include drinking at this party - where everyone dresses as someone from the neighborhood? Enliven it by awarding a prize to whoever does the best job simulating a neighbor's look/couture. FYI, I suggested this to folks in the first neighborhood where my wife and I owned a home. It didn't take off. However, I'm reasonably sure that happened because I made it too risky for some of my highly hetero male neighbors by suggesting opposite gender roles for costumes. Learn from my mistake and keep the men as other men and the women as other women. Boring, but more likely to launch.  

* Don't think that will work? How about this instead? Why not use Halloween 2025 to dress up as a person of the opposite gender you admire from history? No need to go trick or treating; just don the garb and have some fun. I've always imagined I'd make a great Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, or another of the earliest feminists. Why the opposite gender? Why not? It's Halloween - What other day of the year would you try this?

If either of the above is too tame for you, get your disguised self into Greenwich Village next October 31. Try to stand out there. I dare you. 

Information About the Human Condition

Of the many rationales I've heard from men throughout my life - starting with my father - why they don't read fiction, the one that has most consistently befuddled me is "I read for information." 

While immersed in Imagine Me Gone (2016), there were moments when my befuddlement with that rationale took on an odd aspect. Adam Haslett's novel - told by five first person narrators - examines the toll that mental illness invariably takes on a family. It is often painfully sad. But as I finished, it occurred to me that some of the sadness I felt during this exceptional reading experience might be connected to men I've known who "read for information". Given those limits, isn't it likely Haslett's masterful exploration of the human condition would bypass most of them? Predictably, the men most dear to me who would've been excluded, including my Dad, were foremost in my reflections. 

Of course, any man - those in my life or otherwise - could easily read a textbook, non-fiction account of any length, case study, etc., covering mental illness vs. family dynamics for "information". I submit none of that information would stay with any man - or woman - like Imagine Me Gone will stay with me.  

The Countdown

From the outset of this blog in March 2011, I have not been evasive about my worldview. At the same time, across 2,400+ purposefully eclectic posts, I've mostly steered clear of politics. My reticence is not connected to the strength of my beliefs and core values. I've avoided politics on this blog largely for the same reason I avoid the subject in day-to-day conversation - the power of confirmation bias.  

All of us are all hard-wired to seek out information that reinforces our strongly held opinions and tune out the information that does not. Though it's possible to neutralize that automatic internal screening mechanism - one that helps us make sense of the world - we can't do so without a fair amount of effort. Complicating things in our 24/7 news/TVs in every public space/Smart phone in every hand world is the unceasing barrage of misinformation hurled at us these days via rogue Internet sites and uneducated bloggers, our "friends" on social media, and those conspiracy theorists and tweeters/re-tweeters with millions of followers. I see little percentage in adding to that divisive screaming fray with my puny blog and predictable political positions. What possible purpose would it serve except to confirm the biases of any like-minded reader? If I'm not adding value or helping to reverse the incivility of what passes for nuanced political discourse these days, what is the point? Call it confirmation bias, preaching to the choir, or screaming into an echo chamber. It's all the same stuff. Which brings me to my plans over the upcoming ten-day countdown. 

Sometime around ten days from now - could be later - we'll know who'll be sworn in next January as our 47th president. Between now and November 5th, I'll publish a few posts, none of which will touch on the final pleas of either viable candidate or mention those battleground states we all know will decide the winner. And even though my vote is less than critical - New Jersey has not been in play in a presidential election since the early 80s - I will vote to help ensure the popular vote reflects my voice, however marginally. If that sounds weary to you, mea culpa. I do have a more compelling reason, one I've mentioned previously and connected to my politics, forged by studying U.S. history: I will vote to honor those who came before me and were denied that right. Let the countdown begin.

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?

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?             

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.     

  

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.  

Mike Leigh - Wikipedia  

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  

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.