Synaptic Sparks: Paul & Olive

"I know a woman, became a wife; these are the very words she uses to describe her life - She said ...
'A good day ain't got no rain'  She said ... 'A bad day is when I lie in bed and think of things that might have been' ". From "Slip Sliding Away" by Paul Simon

In 1977, when Paul Simon succinctly captured a woman's quiet desperation in "Slip Sliding Away", I quickly added his song to my solo act. As a twenty seven year old, I marveled at Simon's precocious wisdom. Author Elizabeth Strout was twenty one years old at the time. How did she react to Simon's lyric? Was a seed planted?

Fifteen years later, Strout's quietly desperate character Olive Kitteridge made her first appearance in a short story called "Running Away". That story - later retitled "Ships In A Bottle" - and twelve others then became Strout's 2008 Pulitzer Prize Winner entitled "Olive Kitteridge".

"Sometimes, like now, Olive had a sense of just how desperately hard every person was working to get what they needed. For most, it was sense of safety, in the sea of terror that life increasingly became." From the story "Security", included in "Olive Kitteridge"   

Last fall, right in the middle of teaching a multi week course on Paul Simon's music, I devoured "Olive Kitteridge" in one sitting. I recall not being able to get Olive out of my head when playing "Slip Sliding Away" during class. Ever since, Olive has infrequently popped in on me. As I recently led a book discussion on Strout's masterpiece, the synaptic spark reversed direction. I heard Paul Simon singing "You know the nearer your destination the more you're slip sliding away." Does Elizabeth Strout ever hear Paul Simon when she imagines Olive?       

Talking To Children (& Ourselves)

Recall the last time you were in a public place and a child you didn't know enchanted you in some way. A cute hat, a guileless question you overheard, an earnest request for some treat. What happened next? Did you speak to that child? How well do you recall the conversation you had with yourself either before you spoke or after you decided to remain silent?

I don't like to let these opportunities pass me by, so I can hear how my conversations with myself often begin: How will this child react to me? Then, more significantly: How will the adult accompanying this child react to me? Sound familiar? After I observe both of them briefly - but always the adult a little longer than the child - if my gut still says "go", I barge ahead. When I get a response from the child, I almost always leave the encounter beaming. How can anyone not enjoy an interaction with a child, however brief?

The times I'm met with silence? I desist immediately. Children are wisely taught to be cautious around strangers and some of them may not be fully capable of making a distinction between an innocently friendly person like me and someone with less benign intent, even when a responsible adult is by their side. And under those circumstances, i.e. when no encounter occurs, the conversation with myself frequently deepens as I walk away. I wonder: How do we all help our children learn appropriate caution while ensuring they also know the world is mostly made up of decent people? 

The Unibrow Monkey

Highbrow, middlebrow, lowbrow? I've concluded the lifelong movie monkey on my back is unibrow. And like the unibrow that adorns my face, that monkey is a little weird, probably noticeable to others at times, and infrequently, embarrassing to me.

For example, lowbrow as it makes me, I have to admit I'm usually not drawn to foreign films, despite their subtlety, at least compared to those BIG Hollywood blockbusters. Until recently, documentaries didn't entice me much either, even though I've always considered myself a thinker and learner.

But, I'm not real fond of romantic comedies, less tolerant of action or superhero films, and repetitive film characters like Bond, Bourne, & Rocky leave me as cold in the movies as they do in books. In addition, when a filmmaker panders to the audience - usually to mask the absence of a compelling narrative - by interjecting either ... a car chase ... something exploding ... an attractive woman removing her blouse ... I get really annoyed. I've got nothing against seeing any of those things, but make it relevant, OK? So in all these situations, the highbrow monkey lurks.

What is middlebrow, anyway? Animation? Despite the often affirming messages, as an adult I can't recall ever picking an animated film for an evening's entertainment. When I do watch one, I get that gooey good feeling you're designed to get but that's probably why I don't get in line when Dory is at the multiplex a few years later. Are period pieces middlebrow? I can count on two hands the number of films I've really enjoyed featuring people dressed in earlier era costumes. 

What's left, you reasonably ask? Somehow the unibrow manages to find lots of stuff that juices him. But don't include "Going In Style" on that list. 
  

Fourteen Hours Later

Immediately after finishing "Ill Will" a little after midnight, I knew my next blog post had to be about Dan Chaon's brand new, deeply disturbing novel. I also wished there was a way to have a long conversation with my reading posse about this book that very moment. Some books just beg to be discussed.

First and foremost, "Ill Will" is brilliant. It is also creepy, lucid, ghastly, riveting. The architecture is inventive and the prose is muscular. I can't recall the last novel I read that so seamlessly toggled between moments of tenderness and terror.

More than fourteen hours have passed since I closed "Ill Will". I didn't sleep well. At the stable this a.m., I couldn't stop talking about it. I'm a long way from fully processing this experience.

"We often meet our destiny on the road we take to avoid it." - Jean De La Fontaine   

Growth Through Reading

"My ignorance was inexcusable and it made me ashamed."

That's author Jon Krakauer speaking of himself on the penultimate page of his 2015 masterwork - "Missoula: Rape And The Justice System In a College Town". What was this smart author speaking of? His ignorance of the lasting damage done to women raped by an acquaintance, a far more frequent occurrence than women raped by a stranger. Thanks to Krakauer, my own equally inexcusable ignorance has been ameliorated a bit.

All the way through "Missoula", I kept wishing my wife and I were reading it at the same time. Her perspective would have helped me, especially when Krakauer described circumstances involving a woman and a man that occasionally struck me as murky. I pray I was more sensitive as a young man than the " ... callow ..." and "... entitled ..." men the author describes in this harrowing book. And I'm so glad my college friends were musicians and artists not football players.

Books of this caliber - even when painful - are a crucial part of my continuing education and evolution as a thinking, compassionate human being. What book most recently landed with you that way?   

There Are No Accidents

What did you learn on Sunday, February 26, 2006?

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/26/magazine/an-american-secret.html

A few days ago, I was searching for a lyric to a song I was pretty sure I wrote in 2006. There in my writing folder was a copy of Cynthia Carr's NY Times essay entitled "An American Secret". I clearly recall how Carr's piece landed with me on that Sunday over eleven years ago. I also remember what I did the next day at work. 

I made a few dozen copies of the essay and sent them, via US mail, - remember, this was 2006 - to every kindred spirit in my address book. My memory of the subsequent emotional conversation I had with the one person who responded to my mail is also quite clear. Thank you, Ruth.

At a Sally Hemings Memorial Dinner a few weeks ago, I listened to a white colleague describe how unsettled she'd become after uncovering some family history on Ancestry.com. As my colleague spoke, I thought of Carr's brave essay, made a mental note to find it, forgot. Then ... a search for that lyric.

I implore you. Read this.

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/26/magazine/an-american-secret.html

An Irrational Man

What recurrent situation in your life most frequently brings out your irrational side?

Traffic does it for me. I've lost track of how many techniques I've tried over the years to help me get this more under control. And impatient as I can be when traffic interferes with my life near home, if I happen to be away on vacation and get stuck somewhere sitting in a car, oh boy.

The Great Courses CDs from the Teaching Company are a reliable way to keep my irrational side under control in traffic near home. But carrying those with me on an airplane is not practical. Books on tape, also only practical for driving vacations, are additionally not as dependable as lectures. A bad narrator - or worse, a bad book - makes any traffic, near or far from home, even more unpleasant. Though my I-pod - easy to take anywhere - has held the beast at bay on many occasions, the battery in it has also let me down several times. Invariably, a big traffic jam is nearby.

Wait, a bright light. Standing still in horrendous traffic in the Florida Keys last winter, I was saved by Little Stevie's Underground Garage and Deep Tracks. I resolved right there to never again rent a car without satellite radio. Wait, another light, quite a bit dimmer. If satellite radio worked to keep me semi-rational in Florida traffic ...

#48: Mt. Rushmore Series (Zimmerman Iteration)

Although I've largely avoided using this long running series as a way to feature music, occasionally something comes along that forces my hand. Learning a Bob Dylan song to perform at a friend's birthday party recently, I repeatedly broke down crying. Figured it was a good time to acknowledge how much Dylan's music has meant to me since my earliest years as a musician.

So, which four Dylan songs would you enshrine on Mt. Rushmore? Mine are listed chronologically and I purposefully avoided using two songs from any album because that felt like cheating. Feel free to ignore that guideline and also to list yours in any order you'd like.

1.) It's All Over Now, Baby Blue - from Bringing It All Back Home: Like many great Dylan songs, a well considered cover version often reminds me to re-visit the original. Bonnie Raitt's take on this early tune is so strong I'm still trying to decide which version works better for me.

2.) Like A Rolling Stone - from Highway 61 Revisited: And then there are songs that never should be covered. Ever.

3.) You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go - from Blood On The Tracks: "But I'll see you in the skies above, in the tall grass, in the ones I love." I clearly recall how much that image floored me when I first heard it in 1976. More than forty years has not diminished its power one iota. As I learned this song for the first time for that party, that lyric kept stopping me cold. Using just one word with more than one syllable, Dylan nails the essence of ... everything. Also: Check out Shawn Colvin's stellar cover of this winner.

4.) To Make You Feel My Love - from Time Out Of Mind: This gem is unusual because Billy Joel's version was released before Dylan's. The song has been widely covered since for good reason - it's a first rate piece of songwriting.  

By the time anyone else tells me which four songs are on their Mt. Zimmerman, my own could be under renovation. No matter; bring them on.