After finishing J.R. Moehringer's touching book "The Tender Bar" (2005) earlier this week, I've decided to declare a memoir moratorium.
Moehringer's book is worth reading. If you're new to memoirs, this would be a good introduction. It's full of memorable characters - indomitable mother, irascible and abusive grandfather, wayward uncle holding court for the colorful inebriated cast inhabiting his Long Island tavern. I recognized some of that cast from my own years playing tender and not-so-tender bars.
But I'm temporarily abandoning this subset of non-fiction because the amount of learning I extract from memoirs seems to be on the decline. Many of these books are moving, well written and funny; Moehringer's nails that hat trick. Still, my geeky need to learn, at least at present, appears to be taking precedence.
Almost exactly two years ago, a memoir called "Tolstoy And The Purple Chair" by Nina Sankovitch lifted me from a serious dip. So I'm sure I'll return to the genre - keep your recommendations coming despite my declaration; nothing is forever and lists are meant to be filled.
p.s. A month later and still having major problems with this blog site from my home PC; thank goodness for the public library.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
Peer Group Poop
A facetious comment my oldest niece recently made about spending too much time with folks out of her peer group (i.e. with old farts like her parents and me), has me reflecting on the downside of hanging around with my peer group too much.
* How can a distance of more than a few miles be a "long drive"? In one of my book clubs, someone actually marveled at the fact that I live about 15 miles away; my home and the club are in the same county. This is not an isolated example; I regularly hear stuff like this from people my age.
* I understand the motivation to save money on "early bird" specials. But when a restaurant doesn't offer those deals, isn't meeting someone for dinner at 5:30 a little early? By the time dinner is over, the live music at most places hasn't even started. What happens at 7:30?
* If one more person my age says Saturday Night Live isn't as funny as it was in its heyday (a word I loathe), the epithet Dan Ackroyd used to level at Jane Curtin may slip from my lips. I also wonder how many of the old farts speaking of the "golden years of SNL" recall how much bad stuff there was between the classic bits.
What peer group poop would you rather do without? All ages welcome.
* How can a distance of more than a few miles be a "long drive"? In one of my book clubs, someone actually marveled at the fact that I live about 15 miles away; my home and the club are in the same county. This is not an isolated example; I regularly hear stuff like this from people my age.
* I understand the motivation to save money on "early bird" specials. But when a restaurant doesn't offer those deals, isn't meeting someone for dinner at 5:30 a little early? By the time dinner is over, the live music at most places hasn't even started. What happens at 7:30?
* If one more person my age says Saturday Night Live isn't as funny as it was in its heyday (a word I loathe), the epithet Dan Ackroyd used to level at Jane Curtin may slip from my lips. I also wonder how many of the old farts speaking of the "golden years of SNL" recall how much bad stuff there was between the classic bits.
What peer group poop would you rather do without? All ages welcome.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Yogi And Me
I'm grateful for my abundant energy; it's a clear gift. At the same time, I recognize how energy like mine can sometimes wear others out. For those sharing this particular gift of mine, what techniques help you shift into lower gear from time to time?
Yoga as a technique has been a mixed bag for me. Nowadays, I purposefully choose only gentle yoga classes; struggling with the more challenging poses of moderate yoga is a foolproof way for me to remain at 45 or 78 RPM, even with the meditation ending most sessions - oh, that competitive instinct. But given the widely varying definitions different instructors have of the phrase, even gentle yoga sometimes winds me up more than down. This is especially true if I'm singled out for attention - oh, that ego.
If she reads this post, my daughter the yoga instructor might chastise me for being so un-yogi like; competition, ego, etc. Still, my practice will continue; the quiet I feel moving into 33 or 16 RPM as some classes end makes it worthwhile.
Yoga as a technique has been a mixed bag for me. Nowadays, I purposefully choose only gentle yoga classes; struggling with the more challenging poses of moderate yoga is a foolproof way for me to remain at 45 or 78 RPM, even with the meditation ending most sessions - oh, that competitive instinct. But given the widely varying definitions different instructors have of the phrase, even gentle yoga sometimes winds me up more than down. This is especially true if I'm singled out for attention - oh, that ego.
If she reads this post, my daughter the yoga instructor might chastise me for being so un-yogi like; competition, ego, etc. Still, my practice will continue; the quiet I feel moving into 33 or 16 RPM as some classes end makes it worthwhile.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
"Ouch" Insights
"Neurosis is always a substitute for legitimate suffering": Carl Jung
Aside from reference books, no non-fiction book I own has gotten more repeated use than "The Road Less Travelled" (1978) by M. Scott Peck. His final book, "The Road Less Travelled And Beyond: Spiritual Growth In An Age Of Anxiety" (1997) is a fitting coda, expanding on many of the themes introduced in his earlier work.
Because he was a Jungian, I was favorably inclined toward Peck from the outset. And though not normally drawn to writers with overt ties to organized religion, the way Peck wove Christianity into all his books never distanced me. One of the most memorable sections in "...Beyond" describes what Peck calls the "stages of faith". I clearly recognized myself as someone in stage three; Peck terms this the "materialistic" stage.
For me, wise writers often produce "ouch" insights; you know, the kind that sting a bit. Each time I return to Peck's 1978 debut, I find a new one; many seem to occur when the Jungian and the Christian intersect. In his last book there's this: "Those who object to values being taught fail to see that we have already interjected a basic nihilistic value in to school curricula". What was the last "ouch" insight you pulled from a book?
Aside from reference books, no non-fiction book I own has gotten more repeated use than "The Road Less Travelled" (1978) by M. Scott Peck. His final book, "The Road Less Travelled And Beyond: Spiritual Growth In An Age Of Anxiety" (1997) is a fitting coda, expanding on many of the themes introduced in his earlier work.
Because he was a Jungian, I was favorably inclined toward Peck from the outset. And though not normally drawn to writers with overt ties to organized religion, the way Peck wove Christianity into all his books never distanced me. One of the most memorable sections in "...Beyond" describes what Peck calls the "stages of faith". I clearly recognized myself as someone in stage three; Peck terms this the "materialistic" stage.
For me, wise writers often produce "ouch" insights; you know, the kind that sting a bit. Each time I return to Peck's 1978 debut, I find a new one; many seem to occur when the Jungian and the Christian intersect. In his last book there's this: "Those who object to values being taught fail to see that we have already interjected a basic nihilistic value in to school curricula". What was the last "ouch" insight you pulled from a book?
Monday, August 5, 2013
Gender Patterns
Looking around the room at my last book club meeting, I suddenly flashed to my three years of Graduate School and being the only man in that cohort of thirteen. The last writing workshop I attended? Same thing except the ratio there was 25:1.
Of the adults I personally rely on, women far out-number men; been that way as long as I can recall. My lunch dates with colleagues from my last full time job? About four women to every man. My most important intellectual mentor? A woman.
The biggest exception to this pattern is my musical life. Yet even in that domain, where my associations with men outnumber women, many of my favorite bands included women. And my last musical partnership, the longest of my life, was a duo that lasted seven years - just me & another good friend who happened to be a woman.
I'm guessing having two sisters as best friends has something to do with all of this. Men with sisters or women with brothers, what gender-based patterns, if any, do you detect in your life?
Of the adults I personally rely on, women far out-number men; been that way as long as I can recall. My lunch dates with colleagues from my last full time job? About four women to every man. My most important intellectual mentor? A woman.
The biggest exception to this pattern is my musical life. Yet even in that domain, where my associations with men outnumber women, many of my favorite bands included women. And my last musical partnership, the longest of my life, was a duo that lasted seven years - just me & another good friend who happened to be a woman.
I'm guessing having two sisters as best friends has something to do with all of this. Men with sisters or women with brothers, what gender-based patterns, if any, do you detect in your life?
Saturday, August 3, 2013
A Scary Fantasy
Considering the actual number of hours spent, which has given you more comparable pleasure in your life? Film or literature?
I love both and have trouble imagining my life without either. But after wasting two hours last night on another mediocre movie, I was annoyed. Had I been in the middle of a great book right now, the question posed above would not have occurred to me. But the novel I'm reading is about 350 pages. At minimum, that represents about seven hours of my time. Despite its award winning status, unless something shifts radically, the novel falls solidly into the "OK" category, like that two hour movie.
Am I coming down on the lowbrow side and answering my question on the side of film? More analysis is required. But I am clearly re-considering an old story I've told myself about what a waste of time it is re-watching pleasurable films. Since I've justified re-reading books that have taken (on average) three times as long to read as most films last, claiming to be above re-watching "Tootsie" is pretentious hogwash. Time to throw that story away and grab "Out of Africa" the next time I'm at the library.
Anyway, although it is a scary fantasy, a better question to ask might be: If you are a bookworm and film buff like me, what would you do with the hours you spend doing both if suddenly you could not?
I love both and have trouble imagining my life without either. But after wasting two hours last night on another mediocre movie, I was annoyed. Had I been in the middle of a great book right now, the question posed above would not have occurred to me. But the novel I'm reading is about 350 pages. At minimum, that represents about seven hours of my time. Despite its award winning status, unless something shifts radically, the novel falls solidly into the "OK" category, like that two hour movie.
Am I coming down on the lowbrow side and answering my question on the side of film? More analysis is required. But I am clearly re-considering an old story I've told myself about what a waste of time it is re-watching pleasurable films. Since I've justified re-reading books that have taken (on average) three times as long to read as most films last, claiming to be above re-watching "Tootsie" is pretentious hogwash. Time to throw that story away and grab "Out of Africa" the next time I'm at the library.
Anyway, although it is a scary fantasy, a better question to ask might be: If you are a bookworm and film buff like me, what would you do with the hours you spend doing both if suddenly you could not?
Friday, August 2, 2013
The Existential Farmer
"Mommy, can I watch the farmer?"
Imagine the reaction of farmer Pat hearing this over two years ago. Yes, at the time, I was wearing a baseball cap and moving fill in a tractor. And I hadn't run into any fences, at least during the minutes before the question was asked. Still, what a disconnect for a boy raised in Irvington, NJ. My first public swimming experience was no watering hole or lazy creek; it was the all concrete Boylan St. Pool in nearby Newark. Farm animals? On TV only. Tractors? Made of plastic. Hay? You mean the kind that causes fever, right?
Recalling that incident while driving the same tractor today, I reflected on how often in life others, especially strangers, see us in a wholly different light than we see ourselves. When was the last time this happened to you? Aside from the beguiling innocence of the question, I also recalled how liberating it felt to be somebody different for a few seconds. What was expected of farmer Pat? I didn't know - how nice that was. Uh-oh; farmer Pat was now on an existential journey in a tractor.
I wonder how the same innocent question would land with me now after doing farm work every Friday morning for two years. Though I'm not sure, at least I'm back near planet Earth.
Imagine the reaction of farmer Pat hearing this over two years ago. Yes, at the time, I was wearing a baseball cap and moving fill in a tractor. And I hadn't run into any fences, at least during the minutes before the question was asked. Still, what a disconnect for a boy raised in Irvington, NJ. My first public swimming experience was no watering hole or lazy creek; it was the all concrete Boylan St. Pool in nearby Newark. Farm animals? On TV only. Tractors? Made of plastic. Hay? You mean the kind that causes fever, right?
Recalling that incident while driving the same tractor today, I reflected on how often in life others, especially strangers, see us in a wholly different light than we see ourselves. When was the last time this happened to you? Aside from the beguiling innocence of the question, I also recalled how liberating it felt to be somebody different for a few seconds. What was expected of farmer Pat? I didn't know - how nice that was. Uh-oh; farmer Pat was now on an existential journey in a tractor.
I wonder how the same innocent question would land with me now after doing farm work every Friday morning for two years. Though I'm not sure, at least I'm back near planet Earth.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
In Case I Forget January 3, July 24, September 4
Near Mother's or Father's Day this year, a NY Times op-ed piece mused over the fact that there is no siblings day. Given the muted response received last year when I proposed this date as "National Book Day", here's an alternative proposal for holiday-free August: "National Siblings Month".
This is not a call for marketing folks at card companies to jam another superfluous, guilt-inducing non-event down our throats. But for those of us who mostly enjoy our siblings, I think this has real potential. Remembering birthdays and/or anniversaries is not real hard but what happens when those sibling markers pass unrecognized? Guilt, apologies, etc. But even the most addled of us can remember a whole month, right? And except for the Kennedys, nobody has more than 30 siblings so most of us could easily manage some simple communication to acknowledge each of ours over a whole month. Spread it out week by week, get it all done with one e-mail, whatever.
Any regular reader of this blog knows how I value my brother and two sisters. It's possible that's why that NY Times piece landed with me and I sincerely hope this proposal resonates with someone. If so, please let me know, online or off.
This is not a call for marketing folks at card companies to jam another superfluous, guilt-inducing non-event down our throats. But for those of us who mostly enjoy our siblings, I think this has real potential. Remembering birthdays and/or anniversaries is not real hard but what happens when those sibling markers pass unrecognized? Guilt, apologies, etc. But even the most addled of us can remember a whole month, right? And except for the Kennedys, nobody has more than 30 siblings so most of us could easily manage some simple communication to acknowledge each of ours over a whole month. Spread it out week by week, get it all done with one e-mail, whatever.
Any regular reader of this blog knows how I value my brother and two sisters. It's possible that's why that NY Times piece landed with me and I sincerely hope this proposal resonates with someone. If so, please let me know, online or off.
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