Which four quotes are timeless enough to be carved in stone? Most of the words in this post, the 13th in my Mt. Rushmore series, do not belong to me. But the sentiments expressed below are mine in every way.
Ralph Waldo Emerson: What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.
Isaac Newton: If I see great distances it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants.
Martin Luther King Jr: Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter.
Mahatma Gandhi: Our thoughts become our beliefs; our beliefs become our words; our words become our actions; our actions become our habits; our habits become our values; our values become our destiny.
I would really like to know which words move you like the words above move me. In my experience, this kind of inspiration is always welcome.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
The Unsung Unseen
The offline feedback I've received about my July 17 post on translators got me refIecting more broadly on how easy it is to overlook people who support those in the limelight. Which group(s) are some of your candidates for the unsung?
How about accompanists? As one who is better supporting a singer than soloing, this is an unsung group close to my heart. In the world of film, cinematographers remain largely invisible, despite their critical role. Each time a book feels padded to me, I'm reminded of models of concision like Julian Barnes' "The Sense Of An Ending" and wonder - How much impact did Barnes' editor have on the final product?
How would an unsung role like these appeal to you? I wonder - How much do the unsung enjoy being mostly unseen?
How about accompanists? As one who is better supporting a singer than soloing, this is an unsung group close to my heart. In the world of film, cinematographers remain largely invisible, despite their critical role. Each time a book feels padded to me, I'm reminded of models of concision like Julian Barnes' "The Sense Of An Ending" and wonder - How much impact did Barnes' editor have on the final product?
How would an unsung role like these appeal to you? I wonder - How much do the unsung enjoy being mostly unseen?
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Ballad On A Hot Saturday
What percentage of your all time favorite songs are ballads or, at least started out as ballads?
Could be I'm more of a sap than most but my percentage is mushman high. Listening to my I-pod on shuffle recently while exercising, the first six songs were ballads, each better than the next. Found myself getting a little annoyed when the first uptempo song played. Didn't matter that uptempo song better suited the rhythm of my exercise - I anticipated the next tear-jerking ballad. So when the drum intro to Poco's "Nothing To Hide" thundered into my earphones, I was ecstatic in 12/8 time.
Soon after stopping my exercise (eight ballads out of the thirteen songs that played), I further indulged my compulsive side and did a quick perusal of my I-tunes library. Ballads make up more than 50% of the tunes I've obsessively selected for inclusion there. Mind you, they are all great ballads, but slow songs they are.
Though tempted to do a Mt. Rushmore post on this subject, limiting myself to four ballads to enshrine is barbaric. But I'd like to know a few of your favorites in case I've missed some choice ones.
Could be I'm more of a sap than most but my percentage is mushman high. Listening to my I-pod on shuffle recently while exercising, the first six songs were ballads, each better than the next. Found myself getting a little annoyed when the first uptempo song played. Didn't matter that uptempo song better suited the rhythm of my exercise - I anticipated the next tear-jerking ballad. So when the drum intro to Poco's "Nothing To Hide" thundered into my earphones, I was ecstatic in 12/8 time.
Soon after stopping my exercise (eight ballads out of the thirteen songs that played), I further indulged my compulsive side and did a quick perusal of my I-tunes library. Ballads make up more than 50% of the tunes I've obsessively selected for inclusion there. Mind you, they are all great ballads, but slow songs they are.
Though tempted to do a Mt. Rushmore post on this subject, limiting myself to four ballads to enshrine is barbaric. But I'd like to know a few of your favorites in case I've missed some choice ones.
Friday, July 19, 2013
21st Century Picture Prisoner
Anyone as old as I may recall the bad old days when a friend cornered you with a carousel full of slides documenting their last vacation to Disney World. And most of us of all ages have likely withstood a narrated journey through one or more family wedding albums. Tedious as being a picture prisoner in someone's home can be, culinary benefits are often conferred upon unwilling victims. In the days of carousel slides, perhaps a fondue? Would you care for some dessert as your eyes glaze over this wedding album?
Recently I endured the 21st century iteration of this water torture after asking a casual acquaintance about his vacation. Out came the cell phone. When the interminable narration accompanying the pictures ended, 90 precious minutes of my life had vanished without so much as a compensatory eclair.
Now having made others picture prisoners while they were guests in my home, I too have blood on my hands. But with cell phones capable of holding the picture equivalent of the Library of Congress, a remote cabin in rural Wyoming is looking pretty appealing.
Recently I endured the 21st century iteration of this water torture after asking a casual acquaintance about his vacation. Out came the cell phone. When the interminable narration accompanying the pictures ended, 90 precious minutes of my life had vanished without so much as a compensatory eclair.
Now having made others picture prisoners while they were guests in my home, I too have blood on my hands. But with cell phones capable of holding the picture equivalent of the Library of Congress, a remote cabin in rural Wyoming is looking pretty appealing.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Artists Of Language
While reading the stunning prose in "Out Stealing Horses" by Per Petterson, I began reflecting on what the translator (Anne Born) brought to bear on this Norwegian novel from 2003. How much attention have you ever given to this easy-to-overlook detail?
I'm certain being mono-lingual contributes to my fascination of the translator's art. "...until he could not hear anything but that shot when people talked to him no matter what they said, and it was the only thing he would hear for a long, long time." Reading that critical phrase midway through the book (describing a horrific accident from the childhood of one of the main characters), I wondered - How many words were there in the original Norwegian? Was it a phrase in the original text or a stand alone sentence? What was the punctuation? How much work did it take to ensure most of the words in that phrase were one syllable when translated into English? If the original Norwegian did not use that clipped cadence, how would the raw power of that phrase have been affected?
One of my adult guitar students is a multi-lingual Asian Indian. Whenever he asks me to teach him a Hindi song, I ask him to translate the lyrics for me. This process invariably deepens my fascination with language, especially when the singer utters one syllable and my student's English translation becomes several words. Or vice versa. Petterson's elegiac and brilliant novel brought my guitar student to mind and also made me recall an earlier novel I'd finished with equally stunning prose - "Elegance of the Hedgehog" (2006) by Muriel Barbery. Went back to my book journal - that one was translated from French by Alison Anderson.
In my perfect world, artists of language like Born and Anderson deserve more recognition. Without them, I would have missed both "Out Stealing Horses" and "Elegance Of The Hedgehog".
I'm certain being mono-lingual contributes to my fascination of the translator's art. "...until he could not hear anything but that shot when people talked to him no matter what they said, and it was the only thing he would hear for a long, long time." Reading that critical phrase midway through the book (describing a horrific accident from the childhood of one of the main characters), I wondered - How many words were there in the original Norwegian? Was it a phrase in the original text or a stand alone sentence? What was the punctuation? How much work did it take to ensure most of the words in that phrase were one syllable when translated into English? If the original Norwegian did not use that clipped cadence, how would the raw power of that phrase have been affected?
One of my adult guitar students is a multi-lingual Asian Indian. Whenever he asks me to teach him a Hindi song, I ask him to translate the lyrics for me. This process invariably deepens my fascination with language, especially when the singer utters one syllable and my student's English translation becomes several words. Or vice versa. Petterson's elegiac and brilliant novel brought my guitar student to mind and also made me recall an earlier novel I'd finished with equally stunning prose - "Elegance of the Hedgehog" (2006) by Muriel Barbery. Went back to my book journal - that one was translated from French by Alison Anderson.
In my perfect world, artists of language like Born and Anderson deserve more recognition. Without them, I would have missed both "Out Stealing Horses" and "Elegance Of The Hedgehog".
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Three To The Bar
My lifelong distrust of barroom and alcohol camaraderie has been forged by two experiences.
* Many years playing music in bars where I've witnessed firsthand how fleeting that camaraderie usually is.
* Hearing "I love you, Pat" slurred by those who, absent alcohol, have previously shown zero regard for me, let alone any wish for the camaraderie they now wish to extend.
So while having dinner alone at a bar recently, I surprised myself getting engaged with a stranger in the kind of barroom camaraderie I've always avoided. My first indication the interaction was going to go well? When he said "Cinderella Man" and "Saving Private Ryan" were two movies that "inspired" him.
Had things never gone beyond that superficial link, my suspicions about these interactions would have remained unchanged. But when he shared lessons his parents taught him, I was glad I'd remained open despite my initial reluctance; these lessons had the ring of truth and familiarity. No matter how fleeting my connection, can anyone ever hear these things too much?
"Take care of your own health so that you'll be able to take care of those you love."
"Find work you enjoy so you're happy about what you do each day."
"Live within your means".
Thanks for the company and the reminders, Sal.
* Many years playing music in bars where I've witnessed firsthand how fleeting that camaraderie usually is.
* Hearing "I love you, Pat" slurred by those who, absent alcohol, have previously shown zero regard for me, let alone any wish for the camaraderie they now wish to extend.
So while having dinner alone at a bar recently, I surprised myself getting engaged with a stranger in the kind of barroom camaraderie I've always avoided. My first indication the interaction was going to go well? When he said "Cinderella Man" and "Saving Private Ryan" were two movies that "inspired" him.
Had things never gone beyond that superficial link, my suspicions about these interactions would have remained unchanged. But when he shared lessons his parents taught him, I was glad I'd remained open despite my initial reluctance; these lessons had the ring of truth and familiarity. No matter how fleeting my connection, can anyone ever hear these things too much?
"Take care of your own health so that you'll be able to take care of those you love."
"Find work you enjoy so you're happy about what you do each day."
"Live within your means".
Thanks for the company and the reminders, Sal.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Reading With Care
Ever been a little chagrined by one of the reasons you've liked a book?
"Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable" (2003) by Nassim Taleb, had me from the start. Even when out of my depth, the central premise of how we fool ourselves into believing unpredictable events are somehow "explainable" kept me engaged. The author's intellect, coupled with a cheeky irreverence, also helped me through the technical stuff.
However, there were instances when the laughter stuck in my throat. Sometimes, Taleb's disdain for people who have challenged his iconoclastic views got a bit nasty. If a group of people he was dissing happened to be a group I'm frequently scornful of, it was easy to giggle...for a moment. But liking a book because it is snarky is not something to be proud of. I don't need help being more judgmental.
"Black Swan" devotes serious attention to confirmation bias, the human tendency to seek out information that supports our views and ignore whatever challenges those views. It's a construct I'm very familiar with from years of teaching value-laden subjects like racism. More than once while reading this provocative and intelligent book, I had to remind myself that Taleb's views often mesh with mine. Hmmm.
"Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable" (2003) by Nassim Taleb, had me from the start. Even when out of my depth, the central premise of how we fool ourselves into believing unpredictable events are somehow "explainable" kept me engaged. The author's intellect, coupled with a cheeky irreverence, also helped me through the technical stuff.
However, there were instances when the laughter stuck in my throat. Sometimes, Taleb's disdain for people who have challenged his iconoclastic views got a bit nasty. If a group of people he was dissing happened to be a group I'm frequently scornful of, it was easy to giggle...for a moment. But liking a book because it is snarky is not something to be proud of. I don't need help being more judgmental.
"Black Swan" devotes serious attention to confirmation bias, the human tendency to seek out information that supports our views and ignore whatever challenges those views. It's a construct I'm very familiar with from years of teaching value-laden subjects like racism. More than once while reading this provocative and intelligent book, I had to remind myself that Taleb's views often mesh with mine. Hmmm.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
The Birthday Goat
Trust I'm not alone preferring birthday celebrations to funerals. Consequently, I'm looking forward to attending a good friend's 70th birthday party this weekend even if the words "friend" and "70th birthday" in such close proximity feels a little weird.
Anticipating this party did get me reflecting, however. What was the first birthday party you recall attending, your own or otherwise, when the number gave you some pause? Don't remember my 20th but my 30th, 40th, 50th and even 60th passed without too much drama. In those years, to keep the Irish melancholy at bay, I whispered clichés like "It's only a number" and "Beats the alternative" to myself; worked reasonably well for each of my own milestones.
But in 1985, while still a ripe 36 years old, I clearly recall attending a 40th birthday party for a work colleague that sent me into a tailspin. No clichés, Hallmark sentiments or consoling words soothed me that time. Driving home from that party (which, by the way, was a serious dud), I was silent, sullen and self-pitying.
Would be good to know others have had similar experiences when a birthday number got your goat. In the meanwhile, I plan on having a great time celebrating my friend entering her 8th decade.
Anticipating this party did get me reflecting, however. What was the first birthday party you recall attending, your own or otherwise, when the number gave you some pause? Don't remember my 20th but my 30th, 40th, 50th and even 60th passed without too much drama. In those years, to keep the Irish melancholy at bay, I whispered clichés like "It's only a number" and "Beats the alternative" to myself; worked reasonably well for each of my own milestones.
But in 1985, while still a ripe 36 years old, I clearly recall attending a 40th birthday party for a work colleague that sent me into a tailspin. No clichés, Hallmark sentiments or consoling words soothed me that time. Driving home from that party (which, by the way, was a serious dud), I was silent, sullen and self-pitying.
Would be good to know others have had similar experiences when a birthday number got your goat. In the meanwhile, I plan on having a great time celebrating my friend entering her 8th decade.
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