Fortifying a Strong Bond

I'm pleased to say I've always been grateful for my family. Even as an obnoxious teenager, I was aware of my good fortune in this respect.

That said, I'm a bit chastened to admit that sometimes I take the talents of some of my family for granted. Am I the only one who needs an occasional slap in the head to help them more fully appreciate the talent of a family member they interact with regularly? I hope not.

My oldest niece is one of my favorite people. She's thoughtful, smart, and funny. When she recently moderated a discussion at my book club, I wasn't surprised how effortlessly she handled the task. But earlier this week, after reading a book review she wrote on Goodreads, her skill expressing herself in writing struck me anew. Is it possible I'd conveniently "forgotten" this undeniable talent of hers in part because of a need to be recognized for my writing? Again, I hope not. 

What I learned from my lapse is to begin paying closer attention to the talents of everyone in my family as well as to start acknowledging those talents more. How can this do anything except fortify the strong bond I share with them?     

Finding Me Tonight? Easy

 A Better Ending | Book by James Whitfield Thomson | Official Publisher Page | Simon & Schuster

Although I've never published a post endorsing a book before I've finished reading it, I'm thrilled to be doing so this time. Why? Because the author is a friend; friends support each other. At minimum, I'm hoping many of you will open the Simon & Schuster link above, read the brief description, and then take six minutes to listen to Fred Parker's narration of the first chapter. 

If you then decide to take more steps on this particular reading journey, whenever you do, I'd welcome hearing your reactions. For the more competitive, i.e., those interested in keeping pace with me, know this to start. I'd already listened to Parker's narration before attending a bookstore event last night to hear my friend Jim read his prologue. Those two small out-of-order tastes made it easy for me to know I'd be returning to Jim's book at chapter two (page seven) as soon as I completed my other commitments today. And that moment will arrive after I ... 1.) publish this post; 2.) eat dinner. With that in mind, here are required steps for those who hope to keep up with me. Beating me is highly unlikely unless you are both a reckless driver and a very fast reader:

* Proceed immediately to your local bookstore (most close around 9:00) and buy Jim's book. Yes, I'm ahead of you on that step as well.  

* Stay up for as long as it takes you to get through 282 pages, not counting the brief prologue. 

In the meanwhile, all of you know where you can find me tonight.

P.S. When you click on the Simon & Schuster link, a large circle will appear asking you to sign up for something. You can avoid doing so by just clicking "MAYBE LATER" at the bottom of that circle. Doing so will take you back to the S&S page from where you can read the book description and click the link that says "LISTEN" at the top left.  

Trailblazers and Musical Communion

"If I can see further than others, it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants" - Isaac Newton 

Although I've whined here more than once about the paltry remuneration I receive for teaching my music appreciation courses, my kvetching seems silly when I consider the ancillary benefits. I cannot honestly claim I'd do these courses for nothing, given the amount of time I devote to developing my material. But each one enriches me and further deepens my love of music. Those are both valuable gifts.

 

Last summer, when I conceptualized the course I'll be finishing tomorrow - Women of Heart and Mind: A Changing Musical Landscape - I suspected the non-musical research required might be substantial. I did not anticipate how many unfamiliar trailblazing women that research would introduce to me, each more remarkable than the next. I've included the Wikipedia link below for Jeanette Rankin - one of the women unfamiliar to me until developing this course - mostly because her story had an outsize impact on me, but I could've easily done the same for several others. Rankin and others helped shape our national conversation about women's rights. All of us are in debt to these pioneers. 

And then there are the moments of musical communion that occur in nearly every class. Two weeks ago, after session #1 concluded, a participant told me how moved she was by Woman of Heart and Mind - my course's namesake - a Joni Mitchell song from 1974's For the Roses. Turns out she had never heard the song. She went on to say that my laser focus on Joni's lyric about the way some people struggle with authenticity ("You imitate the best and the rest you memorize") had a powerful effect on her. I live for moments like this.  

Jeannette Rankin - Wikipedia    

Two Hours Well Spent

If you enjoy quiet films with little flourish, set aside two hours for The Outrun (2024). I included the Wikipedia link below to eliminate the need for me to outline too many particulars and also help you to decide if you want to invest the time. However, the plot summary therein does have a spoiler so don't read it to its end. 

I suspect the main reason this film landed with me as it did is because of how many people I've known who've done battle with alcohol and/or drugs. The struggles, rationalizing, destructive behavior, and backsliding of the main character in The Outrun - played by Saoirse Ronan - were painfully familiar to me. Have you ever known a single person who doesn't have a story of someone from their life - family member, friend, work colleague, neighbor, etc. - who has fought this fight? Everyone I've ever known has at least one story - sometimes their own - like this.

Another reason I'm comfortable recommending this sleeper without reservation is also connected to my life's experience with alcoholism and drug abuse. Numerous times, I've witnessed people close to me who have turned their lives around with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous and similar twelve-step programs. AA may not be for everyone. But any film that points people toward a solution that I've seen work many times is, to me, a film worth endorsing. Added bonuses: Exceptional acting, nearly flawless script, and unobtrusive direction. And a trip to a remote and enchanting corner of the world.  

If you end up watching The Outrun, please remember to either return here with a comment or write me an e-mail to tell me your thoughts. I'd like to extend the glow of this movie for as long as I can. 

The Outrun (film) - Wikipedia

The Last Reflection from Patstan

Abandoning ship, closing shop, skipping town. 

Farewell concert, final song, no encore.

Out of gas, out of steam, over and out.   

Throwing in the towel, raising the white flag, that's all folks. 

April Fool's!

(I was tempted to prolong this, e.g., Elvis has left the building, etc. I even considered torturing you with that annoying closing song from The Sound of Music. You owe me one.)

Today's Tao

"We teach best what we need to learn most."

What happened most recently to you that confirmed teaching is the best way to learn?

In my course called Jamming for Advanced Beginners, a message I try to convey to guitar students early on is to avoid thinking of any improvised note as "right" or "wrong". Better - I coach them - to consider the notes they intended to play vs. those they didn't intend to play. I strongly believe any student who fully internalizes this critical lesson will be a more relaxed improviser from the start. In addition, having this kind of attitude about one's own improvising is a surefire way to ensure that person will be far less likely to harshly judge what other people play in their early attempts at improvising.

If I could borrow that HG Wells contraption, I know what point in time in my life as a musician I'd return to. I'd go back to my start as an improviser and hear my own words endlessly repeated back to me: "There are no wrong notes, Pat, only notes you didn't intend to play."  Perhaps those words would have given me enough confidence to ignore anyone who cringed at something I tried. 

But time machine fantasy aside, what I've seen - as a teacher - is that each time I repeat this message, an unsurprising thing happens; my own improvising gets a little more relaxed and natural. And that's when Buddha's words are confirmed for me, yet again. 

 

Assembling the Quilt

Take a moment and join me in a fantasy. Imagine you'd spent your professional life as an historian. What era or subject captivates you enough that - in this fantasy - you want to be an expert, able to easily answer nearly any question about that era or subject? 

As disturbing as the subject can sometimes be, these days I frequently yearn to be an expert in the history of the native people who first inhabited this place we call the United States of America. Though the subject was always of interest, my fantasy took a firm hold in 2011, soon after I finished James Loewen's mind blowing book Lies My Teacher Told Me (1995). Since then, the novels of Native American authors like Louise Erdrich & Tommy Orange - among others - and historical powerhouses like The Trail of Tears (Gail Jahoda, 1975) and Killers of the Flower Moon (David Grann, 2017) have helped turn my fascination with this complicated slice of history into something bordering on an obsession.

The many disparate pieces I've picked up over my fourteen-year journey are satisfying. But, at times, those pieces each feel like an individual swatch of fabric. The expert I fantasize about being would be able to assemble them all into a quilt. All that's needed is a second lifetime. Anybody able to help me with that? 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Still Closing the Gap

Reflections From The Bell Curve: John Brown Day

Grounding Myself, Accidentally

"The graveyard is full of indispensable people."

It's possible you're someone who has never taken themselves too seriously. I make no such claim. So let me ask those of you who have - at least a few times - shared my unfortunate tendency. Who helps you remain grounded? If you don't rely on a trusted person to ground you regularly, what do you rely on instead? Who are the people in your life that remind you by example to stay grounded? 

I cannot recall what prompted me to jot down the italicized words above nor did I cite its source in my blog notebook at the time. But a few weeks back I caught myself briefly musing on my importance as I sat down to begin writing a post. What set me off on that fantasy? No idea. Anyone reading and foolish enough to admit to having done so, do you recall what most recently propelled you onto a similar delusional path? 

I do recall from that day weeks back what happened before I started writing. I opened my notebook, noticed those grounding words above and got abruptly yanked back to reality. Timing is everything.

 

p.s. Tried tracking down those words using Wikiquotes; no luck. My best guess? This is something lifted from a novel I was reading at the time. If I'm right, there's another good reason to continue reading fiction, not that I needed any rationale for doing so. 

Your Gold Standard

In my experience, most people who read widely have at least a few "go to" authors. To a lesser extent, I've noticed a similar tendency among serious music lovers and dedicated cinephiles. Music geeks and movie buffs alike rely on certain performers or directors to consistently deliver the goods just as readers do with authors. Today I'm hoping to extract unknown treasures from any of you who share my passion for either literature, music, or film, all of which have enriched my life immeasurably.   

Readers first: Which one book by a "go to" author will be difficult for that same author to top in your mind? You will continue reading this author but - in your mind - this book has become a kind of gold standard. I'm not looking for a "best of" by that author or even your "favorite", necessarily. Try to avoid using those labels as you consider this question carefully. Instead, I'd like to know which one book by that author excited you enough that returning to their work repeatedly was never in doubt. Before moving on to #2 and #3, please note: All of us are destined to be disappointed from time-to-time, gold standard aside. I mean, the Beatles released Why Don't We Do It in the Road. On the other hand, I've been upended more than once by an artist topping something I thought of as unsurpassable. Haven't you?  

Music lovers: Same question, replacing "book" with "recording/album". For information purposes, please also note the name of the musician or band or performer. 

Cinephiles: Replace "book" with "film". Again, be sure to identify the director's name. Source material would be a nice bonus, if relevant. Would be cool to get a good book out of this third entry. 

I'm standing by. Others may also be on the lookout for hidden treasure; share the wealth, please.  

Yesterday

Although the premise for this post came to me as I reflected on a good day - yesterday - some folks might find it unsettling to speculate on their mortality. If that's the case for you, stop reading now. No chance of me getting offended; I have no way of knowing.   

If you knew for sure when you got into bed last night that yesterday was going to be your last day, how would you feel about the way you'd spent it? Imagine what might happen if each of us spent even one day of every month living as though it was going to be our last. Isn't it possible the world could be improved, however marginally?  

I'm not claiming what I did yesterday improved or altered the world in any fashion. But the fact that I did no harm, combined with the positive energy I felt while delivering a music class, spurred me to consider how that energy could easily be directed toward larger aims if I were purposeful about it. All that need happen is for me to occasionally keep that question above front and center. If I did, isn't it possible that over time some modest action of mine might make a tiny difference? More important, how could keeping that question on my radar all the time be anything but beneficial for me and the world? 

These thoughts made for a peaceful night's sleep. For that alone, I'm grateful. 

A Honduran Bookonnection

Ever think the word coincidence is inadequate to describe something that's happened to you? My most recent bookonnection is wild enough that I would be skeptical were someone to tell me this story. 

I first read Paul Theroux's 1982 bestseller Mosquito Coast soon after it was published. Mid-winter of 2024, I was discussing that novel and a later travel book of Theroux's called The Last Train to Zona Verde with a new hiking friend. Zona Verde (2013) was itself kind of a "prep" book for my impending trip to Africa. On the spot, to entice this new friend to join and also because I wanted an excuse to re-read it, I decided to put Mosquito Coast into the queue for my book club. However, because I plan far in advance what my club will be reading, Theroux's early novel was slotted for the meeting in March of this year. 

Many conversations with my fellow travelers while on that trip to Africa centered on books. By the time the trip was over, I had about twenty titles to explore, including The Lost City of the Monkey God (2017) by Douglas Preston, an author and book totally unfamiliar to me. Over parts of 2024 and early 2025, I worked my way through some of those titles but not Monkey God.

Fast forward to February 2025 when my club didn't meet due to inclement weather. Late in the month, I met 1x1 with one of the charter members to discuss our "missed" book. By then, I had already completed my re-read of Mosquito Coast and also re-watched the 1986 film adaptation. At that 1x1 meeting - as is our habit - this reading soulmate and I spoke of other stuff we'd recently enjoyed. Among others, she recommended The Lost City of the Monkey God. Now that I considered a coincidence - or the universe speaking to me - and decided right then to make Monkey God my next non-fiction read. I still had no idea what it was about or where it took place. 

On March 10, the day before my club was scheduled to discuss Mosquito Coast, I opened The Lost City of the Monkey God for the first time and stopped after reading the first sentence: "Deep in Honduras, in a region called La Mosquitia, lie some of the last unexplored places on earth." I took a quick look at the map on the inside cover of Monkey God. Yeah, those river names looked familiar, as did a place called "Brewer's Lagoon". To ensure I was recollecting correctly, I grabbed notes I'd taken for Mosquito Coast to help me guide the discussion for my club. When I confirmed the two books were set in the exact same location in Honduras, I was so astonished I stopped reading and exclaimed to my wife - "You're not going to believe this!" I submit the word coincidence is not up to the job for this situation. When my club met to discuss Mosquito Coast the next day, I opened the discussion by describing my uncanny experience, reading aloud the first sentence of Monkey God. I'm still getting my head around the conclusion of this thirteen-month-long Honduran bookonnection. 

p.s. The Lost City of the Monkey God is the best non-fiction book I've read so far in 2025.        

Milestones Since the Maiden Voyage

Just before sitting down at my laptop moments ago, I realized my first tentative steps into the blogosphere occurred fourteen years ago tomorrow. On the spot, I decided to abandon what I'd previously planned to write about and instead celebrate the start of my fifteenth uninterrupted year of reflecting from the bell curve by marking a few milestones from 2011 - 2025. Why not join in and share a few of yours? I'm doing mine chronologically but pick whatever order works for you.

* When my wife and I took our first trip with Road Scholar (nee Elder Hostels) in the fall of 2015, we had modest expectations. We knew we'd enjoy two of the National Parks we'd be visiting in Alaska and hoped we'd meet some nice folks who - like us - are not luxury-oriented travelers. Who could have predicted the bond we'd build with fourteen (of forty) of our fellow travelers? Except for Groundhog Year, i.e., when Covid shut down the world, the sixteen of us have re-united somewhere in the U.S. in every subsequent year since. What an indescribably wonderful late-in-life gift.  

* Feeling accountable for a goal I announced publicly here on November 22, 2011 definitely kept me focused on that goal. Almost eight years later - in August 2019 - I had memorized 300 songs jazz musicians enjoy playing, either from the Great American Songbook or standards composed by some of the jazz giants. I've forgiven myself for taking eight years to accomplish this when I set out to do so in one (!!), primarily because the regimen of continually reviewing those 300 (now up to 319) tunes has formed the backbone of my practicing discipline on guitar over the ensuing five + years.

* On October 3, 2024, my wife and I became first-time grandparents. If my grandson gives me even 50% of the joy my daughter has given me, I'll be grateful beyond measure.

If you want to share more than three milestones/highlights, great. I limited mine to three for the sake of brevity. My life has been filled with riches since March 15, 2011. And the regular discipline of publishing this blog has clearly helped me bring those riches into focus. Thanks for all your support, online and off. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Maiden Voyage

Who Doesn't Want This?

"I just want you to know who I am."

I wonder how many times I've heard - but not listened closely to - Iris, a song that includes the simple but profound lyric above. Apparently, it's one of the most well-known tunes by the Goo Goo Dolls and was featured in City of Angels, a Nicholas Cage film from 1998.  

I'm not sure what made me pay close attention to Iris the last time it played on my car radio several weeks ago. But whatever the reason, I'm glad I was focused for that moment. As lead singer/composer John Rzeznik plaintively repeated that lyric several times during the song's coda, I was overcome enough that I pulled off the road. When did this last happen to you? Was it a song you know well? What lyric from that tune that you'd heard many times before knocked you down that time? Or was the lyric that floored you from a song you'd paid only passing attention to, as I had with Iris? Or was it words from a tune you've never heard before that stopped you cold?

Don't most of us have a deep need to be known by others in a meaningful and intimate way? Some people are satisfied if one person knows them well in this fashion. Others need more. Listen to Iris - especially the coda - and try to remain unmoved by Rzeznik's delivery of this universal human cry. 

A Never-Ending Search

Some months back, for the first time, I heard pianist McCoy Turner's take on Speak Low, a Kurt Weill standard many jazz musicians play. Listening carefully to Tyner's amazing interpretation, I began analyzing my tepid version of this tune, one I've played steadily for several years. The journal entry I wrote not long after finishing my analysis oozed self-pity. Not my best moment.

Fast forward to a recent conversation with an ex-guitar teacher. When I shared how discouraging it can sometimes be to listen to someone with the speed and superhuman technique of Tyner or guitarist Joe Pass, he reminded me of the days when Miles Davis shared a stage with Charlie "Bird" Parker. What if Miles - my old friend asked me - had allowed himself to be discouraged by Bird's prodigious gifts? Think - he coached me - of what the world would have missed if Miles hadn't used what he learned playing alongside Bird as a path toward finding his own musical voice. 

I've been searching for my voice on the guitar most of my adult life. And I'm grateful for those fleeting moments when it feels like I'm getting close, especially if I'm improvising at the time. But I decided long ago that it's unwise abbreviating and calling myself a jazz guitarist. I'm a guitarist who has studied and enjoys jazz, likes to improvise, and favors tunes from the Great American Songbook and jazz standards. It's a much longer explanation but a far more accurate one. Joe Pass, Wes Montgomery, and Pat Metheny are jazz guitarists. And so is that ex-teacher of mine who reminded me recently to keep searching for my voice and remember that speed is just one element, and sometimes not the most important one. 

Nomophobia or Rudeness?

Nomophobia - Wikipedia

This cranky and contrary old fart is finding it harder all the time to differentiate between nomophobia and garden variety rudeness. And yes I realize that my decision to make minimal use of a cell phone puts me in a rapidly shrinking and marginalized minority. 

That said, I'd like to ask all of you - enamored of or tethered to your cell phone or not - what might have been your reaction had you experienced what I did in my local public library this a.m.? Allow me a brief but wholly accurate set-up.  

Between the lobby of the library and the quiet study area where I placed myself there are no fewer than thirteen signs (counted after the fact) that read "Please restrict cell phone use to the lobby area". This includes one sign on each of the three tables in the study area and one on the wall directly above each. The library lobby is a distance of twenty paces away from those tables (also counted after the fact).

I'm guessing you can predict what happened moments after I sat down. What might surprise you is how the librarian blithely responded after my sheepish request that she intervene with the patron who began a cell phone conversation. "Oh, don't worry about it. This happens every day."

What possible rationale could anyone offer under these circumstances for disturbing others? Didn't see all thirteen signs? Didn't want to walk the twenty paces? What? My frequent use of the library is partially motivated by a wish to avoid the ubiquitous assault of the 24/7 news cycle - abetted by a TV in nearly public space - and the nearly inescapable presence of cell phones, both in the public and private spheres. 

Nomophobia or rudeness?  

A Snob Is Born

When it comes to movies, I am close to being indiscriminate. I'll watch almost anything and put off doing urgent things needing attention when I spot something I haven't seen. In the age of streaming, it's become effortless to indulge myself; my geek cup has runneth over.

It's also been easy sliding into less discernment because, putting aside the "I could be doing something more productive" internal conversation, being a movie geek is a largely benign habit. But I recently stumbled across a downside to my geekdom. And the downside comes wrapped in a little story.

The downside: Being indiscriminate has taken away some of my passion. Because I've seen so many, some of the conventions of genre movies (Westerns, romantic comedies, sports films, musicals, etc.) are no longer as fresh for me. I find myself a tad cynical when able to predict how these types of films will turn out. The story: I've begun to give offbeat, unusual, or non-genre films more credit than they sometimes deserve. Yes, this film geek could be morphing into a snob. This type of thing ever happen to you? If not with movies, how about with literature? Music?  

Occurred to me it's possible this road I find myself on may be the same road professional critics find themselves on from time to time. Ever notice how there are a few critics who rarely seem to like anything a lot of us "regular" folks like? Perhaps those critics have seen or read or listened to so much of what they're paid to criticize that they've gotten cynical, then told themselves a story, and presto = a snob is born. Your thoughts? Strategies to assist me from descending into reflexive snobbery? 

A New Author Worth Your Time

When were you last blown away by a debut novel? 

Weeping through the final paragraph, I couldn't readily recall the last time a debut novel hit me as hard as J. Ryan Stradal's Kitchens of the Great Midwest (2015). Consequently, I then did what any self-respecting bookworm and compulsive chronicler would do. I scoured my book journals. In the end, my rewind took me back to 2016 when Leif Enger's debut Peace Like a River (2001) had a similar effect on me, albeit for entirely different reasons.

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Be Jubilant, My Feet

Stradal's debut is hilarious, moving, and wise in equal measure. Moreover, his architecture is thrilling but completely submerged until the denouement, one of the strongest final chapters I've read in recent memory. And the prose? Exquisite, end-to-end, if you can stop laughing long enough to pay close attention. 

"The three women walked into a punishingly hot wooden building that smelled something like hay, dirt, and excrement being burned in an oven."   

I freely admit a novel called Kitchens of the Great Midwest would have normally not enticed me, even a little. The subject matter telegraphed by the title alone would have rendered a library drive-by improbable. Shallow of me, I know, but there it is. The sole reason I read this book was because a trusted reader who came into my life in early 2024 recommended it to me. If you're a reader, how great is it having people like this in your life?   

Showing Up

A good friend of mine often used to say that half the battle in life was about "showing up". After almost fourteen consecutive years of blogging, I have a slightly better understanding what she meant by that.

Between 10-12 times each month, I show up in this virtual world via publishing a post. Some days I'm less confident about what I publish than on other days. But I continue to hold myself accountable for showing up in the virtual world, regardless. This is not always easy for a few reasons.

First is that nasty inner critic mentioned here on numerous occasions. Equally vexing is the challenge of being reasonably certain I'm saying at least one thing in each post that is really mine. Anyone even remotely familiar with this blog knows how much I enjoy reading. When writing here - unlike my private journal where I can plagiarize to my heart's content - I'm hyper-conscious about claiming only what is truly mine as mine. As recently as two nights ago, while re-reading Emerson's essay Self-Reliance for perhaps the hundredth time, several ideas I had jotted down in my notebook for use in near-future blog posts went out the window. In that moment, those ideas struck me as being far too close to what Emerson had already covered.   

The final reason that showing up - even in the virtual world - can sometimes be difficult is even more basic. What difference would it make if I didn't show up? No difference I guess, except my own sense of being in the world.

Percival Everett

How is it that Percival Everett escaped my vigilant reading radar until recently? What recent reading discovery of yours compares to my astonishment with this man's talent?  

Soon after recovering from the experience of reading Erasure (2001) some weeks back, I made sure to do some basic research on Everett. I'm still unsure why I didn't do this soon after being blown away by James (2024) last fall. Erasure is wildly dissimilar in style, subject matter, and setting, but an equal to James in scope and skill. And whenever back-to-back books by someone new to me have an effect this profound, I'm compelled to know about the author. 

Prior to Erasure, Everett published eleven novels, beginning in 1983. Then he published eleven more in between that earlier gem and James. Add to that at least four books of short stories, six volumes of poetry, a children's book, and more. How did I miss an author this talented and prolific for this long? Considering the number of books released each year, I suppose I should be satisfied knowing a small fraction of the names of published authors. Still, now that I am aware of Everett, some serious catch-up is on the way.    

If you saw American Fiction - a 2023 Academy Award Nominee for best picture - you've already had your first taste of Everett's gift. That excellent, provocative film is based on Erasure and the screenplay closely adheres to the novel. I had some trouble dislodging Jeffrey Wright's expressive face from my mind's eye while reading, especially because Wright portrayed Thelonious "Monk" Ellison in the movie. Monk is both protagonist and first-person voice in Erasure. But "seeing" Wright as I read did not interfere with my immersion in Monk's plight. If you've read more Everett than I - not a tall order - I'm interested to know what you'd recommend I tackle next. I'm a little chastened to admit not one book from his robust catalog rings even a faint bell for me. What gives?  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: James     

Acknowledging Others

In recent memory, I can't recall having had two peak days as close together as this past Sunday and Tuesday. And though it's unsurprising both days involved interactions with people important to me, the lack of surprise brings with it no less joy.

Sunday's interaction with my daughter was shorter in duration because we met in the midst of her shooting a commercial; her schedule was tight. But just those two hours with her reminded me how proud I am of the person she has become. On the train ride home from New York, I filled several pages in my journal musing about my gratitude for her and what she continually brings to my life.

www.beyonddiversity.org

On Tuesday, I flew to Dallas with a friend I've worked with on and off for thirty-five years, someone I've mentioned here a few times since the 2011 inception of my blog. Beginning with when I picked him up for our drive to the airport at 3:45 a.m., we were side-by-side for all but about three hours until 8:00 p.m. Without exception, every conversation - in the car, on the plane, en route to our hotel, preparing for the workshop we did in the late afternoon, de-briefing following the workshop, over dinner - was stimulating, effortless, and intimate. 

I'm a fortunate person in many ways. These past five days have fortified my belief that the greatest fortune in my life is directly connected to the people in it. In my view, acknowledging people who are important to us can never be overdone. Who are some of those people in your life? When did you last acknowledge how important they are to you? What was your most recent peak experience with one or more of them? 

Better Off Without Them

How about we reverse the paradigm this year on President's Day? Although I'm all for celebrating the significant contributions both George & Abe made, why not tell me which two presidents you think we would have been better off without? Just a few guidelines before you nominate your two dodos.

* Confine nominations to the presidents who served in the only two full centuries the nation has lived through so far, i.e., the 19th and the 20th. I know this guideline might annoy some of you because of the serious shenanigans we've already endured in the 21st century. But I'd like this to be more about rear-view mirror history than present-day ranting, even if that ranting is justified. Besides, confining your choices to one president from each full century gives you a lot more possibilities to consider.   

* In the 19th century, neither William Henry Harrison nor James Garfield lived long enough to be fairly judged so leave those two out. 

* However, all the accidental presidents - e.g., John Tyler in the 19th century and Gerald Ford in the 20th - are legitimate candidates for your scorn. Ready for my nominations?

From the 19th century, I nominate Andrew Johnson - one of those accidental guys, BTW - for how quickly he began trying to dismantle pieces of Lincoln's legacy. In addition, Johnson holds the dubious distinction of being our first chief executive to be impeached, although he - like the other two with an asterisk next to their names - escaped being convicted by the Senate. By one vote.  

From the 20th century, I struggled more to make a final selection, especially because I've been around since Harry Truman held the highest job. But in the end, at least for me, Warren G. Harding eased out his serious competitors for someone we would have been better without. There have arguably been more corrupt administrations before and after Harding's, but his stands out for its blatant audacity. 

Why not join me in some harmless historical revisionism? Look at it this way. The only living person's feelings you can hurt are Bill Clinton's. I suspect he's heard worse.   

Talkative? Or ... Garrulous?

Not long ago, I listened to a woman making use of her good vocabulary during a prepared speech she was giving to her peers. I did not feel she was being at all showy. Nevertheless, it did not surprise me when I later over-heard people saying they thought the speaker used too many "...big words..."

Some of you may be familiar with this advice often given to public speakers: "Speak to express, not to impress". This can be a useful guideline. At the same time, I have seen this advice work against people who have a strong and natural command of words both in public speaking situations and otherwise. They sometimes begin second-guessing themselves. Instead of using "garrulous", they stumble to find "talkative". Are they perhaps worried about others thinking they're using "big words" even though both have the same number of syllables? Or, is it possible that speakers who dumb down their good vocabularies are not giving their listeners enough credit? What is your view on this? What are you inclined to do when someone you're not close to uses a word you don't know?

I admire speakers -and authors - who use simple words well. I also love when someone challenges me to be smarter. Consequently, I like when people use words they have naturally at their disposal, even if a word is unfamiliar to me. I'm a big boy and welcome taking responsibility for my own learning.

My Missing Valentine

Why not wait until the holiday to publish a post about my missing Valentine?

Well to begin with, the last time she and I were apart for more than two weeks was in late 1978 when I hitchhiked across country and back. So far, she's been away ten days and there are still ten more to go. Not that I'm keeping track. 

Also, this Friday will be the first time we've been apart on a Valentine's Day since we first celebrated the holiday together in February of 1979. Last year we were in Pretoria on February 14. In 2023, we had dinner at a favorite local restaurant. Not that I pay real close attention to what has happened on past Valentine's Days. 

Did I mention I won't get to hear her thoughts at the discussion at my book club tonight? Over the eight + years the club has been in existence, she's missed perhaps five meetings. Not that I noticed.

So, why not wait to publish this post until the holiday? It's not like she's crossed my mind since she left on February 2nd. On Valentine's Day, I guess I'll have to be satisfied knowing our new grandson is getting the undivided attention of the best person he might ever know, instead of me getting all the attention. It's a hardship, but I'll cope. 

Icing on the Cake

Although learning about history has always appealed to me, until I stopped working full time, reading about it was not a priority. Before 2010, I relied more on film than I did on books to help me augment the little historical knowledge I'd gotten during my school years. I knew film was an inadequate substitute, but leisure hours were limited and the concentration required to finish books of history - especially the longer ones - frequently eluded me. On the top of my pile in the full-time work years were either novels or non-fiction connected to my work or, of course, books about music. 

For the last fifteen years, with respect to books of history, calling myself an intermediate dilettante is, I think, reasonably accurate. However, thanks to the newest book club I've joined - a club that reads only non-fiction - it's now possible I'll get to the advanced dilletante level in Act Three. So far, this club has gone three for three in selecting terrific books of history that I would never have picked on my own. The latest: Valiant Ambition: George Washington, Benedict Arnold, And the Fate of the American Revolution (2016). Why would I not have picked this?

* The excellent author - Nathaniel Philbrick - was unknown to me. That's never a deal-breaker, but when it comes to history, I'm more inclined to return to favorites (Joseph Ellis, Erik Larsen, David McCullough), because I know how their storytelling skills make the history come alive. I'm a little gun-shy picking an unknown historian in a library drive-by because I'm concerned I may give up before finishing. The good news? Philbrick is now someone I'll willingly return to. 

* Because George Washington was the subject of another fantastic book of history I read not long ago - Mr. President (Harlow Giles Unger) - I wouldn't normally return to read another book centering on the same historical figure so soon. But the way Philbrick toggled between Washington and Arnold while delivering this material provided a totally different dimension to our origin story than Unger did in his book. And Philbrick's preface was masterful; he had me from page one.   

This all adds up to an inescapable conclusion, something I suspect some of you may have heard others say. One of the best reasons to join a book club is to be introduced to authors and books unfamiliar to you. Icing on the cake for me: My newest club is focusing on history. Cool. 

Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-Four

"Love is the answer ... for most of the questions in my heart."

I realize Lennon & McCartney may have expressed a similar sentiment more succinctly in the title of their classic hit All You Need Is Love. But for me, the terse lyric above from Better Together - a Jack Johnson tune from 2005 - holds its own alongside all the lyrics I've used here as words for the ages since initiating this series in May 2017. And pardon my hubris but I submit John & Paul would agree the seven additional words Johnson used - vs. their original five - provide a fresh dimension to their thought.

From the start, I made a commitment to resist using any lyricist more than once for this series. Now sometimes, when several months pass between iterations, the treasures of lyricists already used (e.g., Paul Simon, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne) test my commitment. But before succumbing and repeating someone, I recall how many greats have yet to be represented (e.g., Johnny Mercer, Smokey Robinson, Stephen Sondheim) and return to the task at hand. That task is to continue carefully listening for a terse lyric that stands alone, i.e., does not depend on a rhyme to complete the thought, and that lyric should be able to be easily recalled by an average listener. (FYI, the longest lyric used to date contains twenty words.) Finally, the thought must contain a universal truth that will stand the test of time, i.e., these must be words for the ages. 

Any other nominations from Jack Johnson's catalog? Or how about a nomination of a lyric from one of the three greats mentioned above that I haven't yet used? I'm always listening.  

RIP: 2016-2025

Since no one has ever asked - online or off - why I decided to re-run the post below every February 2nd since 2016 - changing only its title - this inside joke is officially deceased. I'm interring it primarily because dwelling on possible reasons why it generated near radio silence - no one thought it was remotely funny, clever, worth mentioning or, worst of all, no one noticed - is too demoralizing. RIP. 

Considering how many people outside of Punxsutawney ever pay attention, isn't it peculiar that of all the movies ever made about holidays few have come close to being as good as Groundhog Day?  What is your nomination for a holiday film that is the equal of Harold Ramis's goofy 1993 masterpiece?

Although I'm not a big Bill Murray fan, Groundhog Day is on the short list of films I've watched more than once. Of the several priceless bits in the movie, my favorite is probably Sonny & Cher warbling I Got You Babe on the clock radio that awakens Murray's character as he endlessly repeats February 2nd - a brilliant song choice. What alternative tune would you pick as a way to aurally depict a nightmare you can't escape? My top nominations would be either one of those treacly ballads Michael Bolton screamed during his brief but painful popularity or the musical torture inflicted on us by I-get-paid-by-the-sixteenth-note Kenny G.

Musical snarkiness aside, which bit from Groundhog Day plays over and over and over in your mind? And, if you were able to repeat a single day from your life, which one would you choose?

Garth and Me

I've come to accept the fact that occasional thoughts of mortality and being introspective can go hand and hand. Fair warning to readers temperamentally inclined to equate random thoughts of mortality with morbidity: Skip the next three paragraphs. (BTW, same warning applies to those uninterested in bands from the 60s.) 

Upon learning of the recent passing of Garth Hudson - longstanding organist with The Band - it was hard for me to escape a temporary reflection on mortality. Hudson's death triggered this introspective blogger and musician who came of age in the 60s to muse - briefly - on an inescapable reality. 

Garth was the last surviving member of The Band, and though I didn't double/triple check - now that would be morbid - no other seminal, highly influential band that came to prominence in the 60s has yet to lose every founding member. Here's a quick, woefully incomplete, alphabetical list of those bands, i.e., groups in which members played their own instruments, that have at least one founding member alive: The Animals, Beach Boys, Beatles, Buffalo Springfield, Byrds, Chicago, Kinks, Rolling Stones, Santana, Who, Yardbirds. Don't quibble about who I left out or bother mentioning that the Four Tops lost their last surviving founding member last year. First, the Tops didn't play their own instruments. Second, it's beside the point anyway. 

Garth Hudson's passing - at the robust age of eighty-seven, BTW - gives me slight pause. I still have plenty of musical heroes left from the 60s. And an ever-increasingly small number of them still make some good music from time to time. But for me - and all of them - Act Three continues apace, which, of course, is preferable to the alternative. RIP, Garth - you had an impact on my musical life.        

One That Slipped By

What's been your most recent experience of a movie gem that slipped by you on its release? How did you uncover this hidden treasure? Recommendation? Accident while channel surfing? Your favorite blogger, aka fellow film buff, stumbling across it on a flight to L.A.?   

A good friend was telling me how she wasn't at all enticed to see one of the recently announced Academy Award nominees for best picture. Because this happens to me routinely - I still haven't seen either Lord of the Rings or Dune - my movie-saturated brain involuntarily began scanning for a recommendation for her that qualifies as an under-the-radar jewel. Anyone seen Memory, a late-in-2023 release starring Jessica Chastain and Peter Sarsgaard? 

The last movie I can readily recall featuring side-by-side central performances as strong as Memory - with a script to match - was the justly praised You Can Count on Me (2000) starring Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo. The difference? Both Linney and screenwriter Kenneth Lonergan were recognized for their work on the earlier film. Memory got little enough attention that it took this indiscriminate geek completely by surprise. Although I love when this happens, considering how many truly terrible movies get released - some even praised, for heaven's sake - it's still mystifying to me when a film like Memory is overlooked. 

For the record, I like Bradley Cooper's acting. But giving Brad/Leonard a best actor nomination last year for Maestro (did anyone really need to see him sweating profusely in those torturously long close-ups?) while bypassing Peter Sarsgaard's subtly nuanced performance in Memory strikes me as hero or hunk worship or something. 

A Thinking Person's Page Turner

Despite the fact that I finished it back in mid-December while on our extended trip to L.A., I'm still buzzing from the kinetic energy that infuses Harlem Shuffle (2021). And though novels that reprise characters are normally not a go-to for me, I'm looking forward to seeing where Colson Whitehead will take me when he follows Ray Carney - "...only slightly bent when it comes to being crooked..." - in Crook Manifesto (2023). If that follow-up is even roughly equal to Harlem Shuffle, Carney will end up on a short list of characters I want to hang out with more than twice. Which fictional characters from your reading life have captivated you enough to read more than two novels that feature them?   

"Carney was confident in his salesmanship, especially on his home turf. Today's specials: surprise and sadness and curiosity."

Carney is a dedicated family man and mostly successful furniture salesman in late 50s, early 60s Harlem. But some of his family - notably his deceased father and very-much-alive cousin Freddie - dance to different music. His family's shenanigans and Ray's resentment of the pretensions of his effete in-laws complicate a facade he works hard to maintain. Using a classic three act structure, Whitehead never loses control of his propulsive narrative. 

"An envelope is an envelope. Disrespect the order and the whole system breaks down." That brief passage from Act Two - my personal favorite even though the body count is lower than Act One or Three - hints at one of the broader themes Whitehead explores in this terrific book, i.e., what really makes a city like New York work. Though this gifted author has more on his mind than entertaining you, you will keep turning those pages compulsively. I guarantee it.     

A List-Maker's Dialectic

Although it's doubtful I'll ever totally abandon my lifelong list-making habit, modern technology has largely rendered that habit increasingly unnecessary. Any of my brethren - i.e., fellow list-makers - any ambivalence about this turn of events? 

Most of the lists I still maintain are personal ones e.g., favorite authors. But given how easy it is these days to find any author's complete bibliography, keeping a list of which books I want to read by any of my favorites is silly. I recently gave up adding to my list of palindromes, a practice established many years ago to help me pay more attention, and also something I thought might keep my brain a little sharper. But AI can generate a complete list of those instantly. With just a few keystrokes, the same goes for a fun list of almost any type, like anagrams or other types of wordplay. Or song titles with just a woman's name or names that double as puns or ... Getting a picture of the kind of stuff that filled some of my old notebooks?  

For me, lists have always been one portal to the creative process. Consequently, I'm hesitant to go cold turkey. On the other hand, I realize most of my lists became redundant years ago and not maintaining as many as I once did frees up time that can be used for creative endeavors. I'm grateful for that. I remain convinced, however, that over-reliance on technology vs. using the list-making part of my brain is not a foolproof solution. My lists are an adjunct that definitely help strengthen my memory. And maintaining a reasonable number of them additionally ensures I'm continually engaging the kinesthetic learning modality, along with the visual and auditory. Research has shown that using all three of those modalities regularly increases retention. 

Being able to instantly find anything, without lists, clearly has advantages. But for the time being I'm keeping my options open. List-making brethren: Where are you in this dialectic? 

Line Dancing

Am I the only one who finds it easier to see the line separating selflessness and selfishness by looking at the behavior of others vs. looking at myself? 

I'll start here. No one who has ever known me would describe me as selfless. I would never describe myself that way. I'm attached to my ego, I'm fond of my opinions, and I'm resistant - as often as not - to the idea of making my needs secondary to the needs of others. Neither a bromance with Dietrich Bonhoeffer nor achieving sainthood alongside Mother Theresa - time machine aside - goes along with the cards in my deck. 

Selfish? Here's where the line dancing gets tricky. I was raised Catholic, making selfishness roughly equal to mortal sin, i.e., hell and damnation. That scary and tenacious message created some serious cognitive dissonance when juxtaposed alongside normal adolescent impulses. Consequently, as a young adult/lapsed Catholic/thinking person, I rejected wholesale the selfish=sin bit, journeying toward hedonism, albeit half-heartedly. For the remainder of my life, especially after becoming a parent, I've moved away from craven selfishness, but as I indicated at the start, it's much easier for me to see the line when looking at others vs. looking at myself. That is, I think I can spot someone who appears to reflexively put themselves first - no matter the situation - but maybe that's just my recovering judgaholic getting the upper hand. 

I remain certain that selflessness and I are never destined to cross paths. I'm equally certain that the line separating selflessness and selfishness is one I'll be dancing on or near until I can dance no more.  

Moments Across Years

 

I once heard it said we don't remember days, we remember moments. As thoughts of my daughter continually ran through my head on her birthday today, I paused to recall moments from her life that I'm sure will always remain with me.

* For the most recent moment, I selected the above - taken soon after the birth of my grandson - because it's fresh in my mind. And this picture also perfectly captures my daughter's playful and loving spirit.

* I've had so many transcendent musical moments with her, picking one is difficult. Today, I'll use a moment when she was in 5th grade and I was accompanying her on a LeAnn Rimes song called How Do I Live. When that school auditorium erupted with spontaneous applause after she effortlessly nailed the high note the first time through the chorus, I put my head down to avoid embarrassing myself. I was still regaining my composure as we left the stage together.

* While on a whale-watching excursion in Acadia National Park, I was holding my sleeping five-year old daughter against my chest. There was one magical moment that day when it felt to me like her heartbeat and mine had meshed. I'm guessing any woman who has ever been pregnant can relate to this. Although it wasn't my first bonding experience with my daughter, it remains a singular moment from my life. 

Happy birthday, sweetheart. 

Book Club Report: Year Eight

Before beginning to compile this post, I rewound and read all the previous iterations of this annual series dating back to when the No Wine or Whiners book club finished its first full year. Before you say it, I acknowledge how self-referential that sounds. But isn't it fun from time to time to remind yourself of books that have moved you? It is for me. Added bonus: Those older posts also brought back some nice moments from discussions of the 80+ books my club has tackled since its inception in January 2017.  

Because of three extended trips away from home in 2024, this past year ended up having fewer meetings than in any year since the club began. In addition, my not-entirely-successful experiment with a book of non-fiction essays - breaking up our discussion of that book over three non-consecutive meetings - ended up further reducing our usual number of titles. But the club continues to attract new members, the charter group of six remains in place, and the conversations almost uniformly exceed my expectations. 

And in an unusual twist, last year's undisputed winner for most well-received novel - This is Happiness (2019) by Niall Williams - and undisputed winner for most well-received book of non-fiction - Say Nothing (2018) by Patrick Radden Keefe - were both recommended to me by the same person. I met this reading soulmate - who also happens to be an author - on our February trip to Africa. So far, every title he has recommended to me - both while we were travelling together and in subsequent e-mails - has been a winner. Gotta love that. 

Please share with me and others some highlights from your book club involvement. More than a few times, readers of my blog have directed me to gems that could have easily gotten by me. Thanks in advance. 

       

The Nasty Inner Critic

How recently did your nasty inner critic prevent you from putting yourself out there?

Barring erratic Internet service, if more than three days have elapsed between my blog posts, it's safe to assume the nasty inner critic has gotten the better of me. At seventy-five years old, you'd think I'd done enough battling with this demon to ignore the incessant negativity. I wish. 

It's only a few paragraphs. There is no money riding on it. There is always something of interest to reflect on that someone might find worthwhile. Besides, even if my reflection lands with a thud, aside from me, who will know? Put another way, what's the worst that can happen? What then - you might reasonably ask - can that nattering voice say to stop me from putting myself out there? What possible harm could come from recommending a good book or musing about a worthwhile or marginal movie? Why not riff on an arcane word, deconstruct an aphorism, share the essence of a conversation, muse about a recent or upcoming adventure? Those are some of the good questions I've asked myself these last few days. Here's what the nasty inner critic has screamed back:     

IT'S ALREADY BEEN DONE!! IT'S BEEN DONE BETTER!! If you've rarely had to confront either of those statements when deciding to put yourself out there - in whatever form - congratulations. You've been more successful than me keeping the nasty inner critic in its place. Happens that this latest encounter with my nemesis wasn't stymied by those two screaming statements. This particular unwelcome visit stopped me cold by asking What is the point, Pat? That eternal and existential question is a surefire, if temporary, showstopper. 

What strategies do you use to help silence the nasty inner critic?  

 

Woody Completism (Mea Culpa)

I checked Wikipedia and it's official. After watching Melinda and Melinda (2004) a few nights ago and Rifkin's Festival (2020) while in California over the holidays, I've now seen every movie Woody Allen has written and directed over his long career as a filmmaker. I realize that publicly declaring this dubious distinction opens me up for censure, given the significant controversy that has engulfed Allen for years. Why - many could reasonably ask - would anyone want to make this claim? My simple, if inadequate, answer: completism. 

Have you ever wanted to hear - perhaps even own - every recording by a favorite musical artist? Read everything ever published by a beloved author? Visit every National Park? Collect every Hummel figurine? I submit most of us - if we're honest - have either indulged in or thought about some form of completism at some point in our lives. Maybe your completism carries less baggage than confessing what I have here. But when you reached that end, e.g., you had a meal at every five-star restaurant in Boston, you set foot on every continent, you completed the NY Times crossword puzzle every Sunday for a year, didn't that give you a rush of satisfaction? Admit it, if for no other reason than to make me feel better. 

For the record, neither of the films above was great but spending time with even an average Woody Allen movie - his greatly tarnished reputation aside - is preferable to much of what is available most of the time. My Mt. Rushmore of Woody films? Another Woman (1988), Blue Jasmine (2013), Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), and Hannah and Her Sisters (1986). The last time a movie of his really enchanted me was a recent re-watch of Cafe Society (2016). This time around it hit me that none of Woody's other doppelgangers - Kenneth Branaugh in Celebrity (1998), Larry David in Whatever Works (2009), even Owen Wilson in Midnight in Paris (2011) - played him nearly as well as Jesse Eisenberg did in the later film. 

Final conflicted admission: I'll probably continue to re-watch selected Woody Allen films for the rest of my life. He's a flawed human being. Who isn't? He's also a great filmmaker and I love movies. I have no neat rationalization for my decision to continue supporting his art. Another of my flaws, I guess.  

Woody Allen filmography - Wikipedia  

Batting Four for Four: Elizabeth Strout

"This was the skin that protected you from the world - this loving of another person you shared your life with."

Yes, English teachers - many of us recall the rule about ending a sentence with a preposition. Who can be bothered with rules when captivated by a storyteller as skillful as Elizabeth Strout? Every one of the nine linked stories in Anything Is Possible (2017) is so nearly perfect that I'm unable to identify a favorite. The sentence opening this post - from Windmills - was the first of many I felt compelled to copy. Not pulled in yet? How about this?

"People could surprise you. Not just their kindness but also their sudden ability to express things the right way."

That's from The Hit Thumb Theory, arguably the most heartbreaking story in the book. But large parts of it still manage to sing with an unmistakable joy because of Strout's always-present capacious heart. I'm not at all sure how she does this but I'm so grateful to be witness to her exceptional gift. 

"She suffered from only the most common complaint of all: Life had simply not been what she thought it would be."  

And Strout is way too skillful to pummel you with any capital "E" epiphany. The hard-earned wisdom in the everyday lives of her characters - like in the sentence above from Dottie's Bed and Breakfast - comes to a reader without flourish. This is an author who never raises her voice but can be clearly heard at all times. Years back, right after finishing the deservedly praised Pulitzer prizewinner Olive Kitteridge (2008), I suspected Elizabeth Strout was a keeper for me. After now reading three more of her books, I'm totally smitten. What a blast.  

"Yes, there it was, the perfect knowledge: Anything was possible for anyone."  (from Gift)   

Practicing Gratitude

Soon after my wife's involvement with the Positive Psychology movement reignited my commitment to regularly documenting moments of gratitude in my journal, our daughter made a suggestion to us that she believed could take our gratitude practice to another level. And she was right.

It began in January 2020 when we placed a ready supply of post-it notes in several colors and a pen next to a large glass jar on our kitchen counter. Whenever either of us is reminded of something we are grateful for, we record the date and the thought, fold and then put the post-it into our jar. When we have guests at our home and we remember, we ask them if they'd like to contribute something. We've even begun taking a small supply of post-its with us during time away from home and asked both fellow travelers and family to join us if they'd like.

I've saved the best for last. On or near the first of the year, my wife and I turn the jar upside down and shuffle all the post-its we've collected. We then read them to one another - out of order - giving us an opportunity to re-live moments of gratitude from the past year. This tradition - now repeated five years running - has quickly become one of the undisputed highlights of our year. Each year we are reminded anew of both the richness of our lives and the power of practicing gratitude. How do you remind yourself to be grateful?       

Stop - Start - Continue: 2025

Among the once-each-year series I've created, Stop - Start - Continue, published on New Year's Day, has continually gotten some of the most positive feedback. I encourage you to join me here today - as some of you have in the past - and make a public commitment. There is substantial research indicating people are much more likely to follow through on public commitments than on ones they make only to themselves. 

In 2025, I will stop allowing closeness communication bias to get in my way when listening to people in my family of origin as well as with my wife and daughter. When I finished reading Kate Murphy's exceptional 2019 book You're Not Listening, it was clear that I'd fallen into the trap of frequently "thinking" I knew what people close to me we're going to say before they'd finished speaking. I'm now firmly committed to curbing this behavior. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Rescuing Ourselves

In 2025, I will start reading at least one well-regarded biography each year. My reading diet has been lacking in this particular protein for too long. I'm thinking of starting with a biography of Winston Churchill, a complicated, controversial, and critically pivotal twentieth century statesman.  

In 2025, I will continue to regularly attend open jazz jam sessions all across the area. This road has started out bumpy and I've had some demoralizing moments. But I'm driven to find my improvisational voice and to discovering more joy in what I'm able to do vs. being pre-occupied with what still eludes me. 

I look forward to learning what you plan to stop, start, and continue in 2025. If you have trouble with one or two, no worries. Commit to just one of the three. But be sure to tell me and others what that is, OK?