Open Letter To Joe

Dear Joe; Congratulations on winning the Presidential election. Over seventy eight and a half million Americans hope that voting for you was a good decision. I suspect a fair number of the over seventy two million Americans who voted for your opponent are unhappy at best; some of those folks are probably angry. And though I'm sure the people advising you are smart, I hope you'll indulge this unknown blogger as he offers one piece of unsolicited advice.   

When the Covid-19 vaccine begins being administered, and our country starts clawing its way back to something resembling normal, take the high road, please. Make it a priority to publicly and repeatedly acknowledge the role your predecessor's administration had in funding and supporting Operation Warp Speed. Do this not only because it's the right thing to do, but also because of how much we need to heal as a nation. If we continue demonizing each other and ignoring any progress we make instead of emphasizing what we have in common and lauding a job well done, I'm worried about the country my adult daughter and any children she may ever have will soon inherit. The political path we're on at present is unsustainable.

In the meanwhile, if you need live music for your inauguration, you can reach me via this blog.

Pat Barton

A Veteran I'll Always Miss

Although my late parents are rarely far from my mind, like many people, I get most lost thinking of them on their birthdays, on the day they were married, and on the day each of them passed away. And I suspect my Dad crosses my mind a bit more often because he was with me almost twenty years more than Mom.

I'm also frequently caught off guard when something conjures up Dad. Was he on my mind early today because it's Veteran's Day? Or, would I have noticed that pair of paint-splattered boots on the guy in my coffee shop this morning - flashing to Dad immediately - no matter what day it was? What was the last visual cue you recall noticing that triggered a memory of someone precious you've lost?

Grabbing my coffee, I briefly considered engaging the stranger wearing those boots. I thought to ask him some harmless question, perhaps share with him the way his boots gave me a wistful moment. It's possible my decision not to do so made my subsequent long drive to visit my ailing sister more lonely. I do recall not long ago engaging a different stranger - this one sporting a WWII vet's hat - in that same coffee shop. I don't recall how that earlier interaction went but as the day winds down, some small part of me wishes I'd engaged that stranger this morning, if only to make Dad seem more vivid, at least for that brief moment.    

Friends I've Never Met

 

Each time I see this inspirational sign on a lawn, my addled list making brain goes into overdrive. If a mailbox is readily accessible without trespassing, I rejoice because ...  

Returning home, I peruse my book journals, consult my film log, scour my music collection. Then I compile a list that will allow me to anonymously commune with soulmates. 

Depending on the day, my schedule, and how many of the equally meaningful beliefs from the sign I want to address, my soon-to-be-inserted-in-the-mailbox list will vary in length. My next gift to friends I've never met - addressing belief #1 - will include these fortifying suggestions:

Suggested reading: Nickel Boys, Colson Whitehead novel

Suggested viewing: 13th, Ava DuVernay documentary 

Suggested listening: American Skin, Bruce Springsteen song 

Your turn: Pick another of the beliefs and make your suggestions to these friends I've never met. 

Don't Miss This One

Whenever I'm knocked out by a film more than a few years old, especially one I've never heard anyone mention, my first thought is "How did this get by me?" Aside from regular conversations with my actress daughter and reading any film review I come across, I also scan the movie selections on my cable stations way too frequently. All that movie geekiness and still Goldstone (2016) snuck up on me. 

It could be this winner escaped me because of its nondescript title. Or, maybe a film with no big names set in Australia didn't entice reviewers from newspapers and magazines I routinely read. It's even possible my own biases let this gem slip by. If I had read a review - though I don't recall doing so - and that review said the two main characters were police officers, I might not have paid as close attention. I'm not proud of this particular filter of mine, but denying it exists would be dishonest. 

Don't let any of your filters interfere with seeking out this sleeper. Nuanced script, superb direction, two charismatic lead performances by Aaron Pedersen & Alex Powell and a sly supporting performance by the criminally underutilized Jackie Weaver. I had one tiny quibble involving an automobile near the end of the film, but the climactic gun scene just prior to that and the stunning cinematography highlighting the wide-open Australian landscape throughout the film more than absolved the automobile misstep.

After you see Goldstone be sure to check back in with me. We movie geeks have to stick together. Who else will have us?   

Second Time Around

 As captivated as I was the first time, re-reading The Twelve Lives of Samuel Hawley was an even richer experience. I highly recommend Hannah Tinti's 2017 novel, old-fashioned in all the best ways. 

The last time you enjoyed a re-read, what was most notable for you? This time I noticed how artfully the author created her secondary characters, made the first and last scenes thematically congruent, and I was less ambivalent about Samuel's unconventional parenting choices. It's possible that last piece is connected to some disturbing novels I've read since 2017 that featured some loathsome single Dads. 

I'm pleased about my deeper admiration for Samuel Hawley this second time around considering the book club I selected it for. Duly chastened when my last selection for this particular group was uniformly disliked, this year I opted for accessible, without any compromise re the quality of the prose. And though there are more likable characters in Tinti's novel than there were in my last selection, her book is not without its dark side. I'm anticipating far fewer groans at this discussion. We'll see. 

The Day After Tomorrow And Beyond

Even though in all likelihood the final results won't be known, the day after tomorrow could end up being a memorable one. Aside from hoping your candidate prevails, what else do you hope will happen or not happen on the day after tomorrow and in the weeks to follow?

* I hope the winner and loser accept the results with grace. I hope supporters of both, including myself, do the same. 

* I hope the winner sincerely vows to seek common ground with the opposing party over the next four years. If the next President gets a split Congress, I hope whichever chamber is the opposing party works in concert with the President and its sister chamber. If both chambers of Congress end up being the opposing party to the new President, I hope Congress does not reflexively obstruct everything the new President proposes. 

* I hope the consistent message the winner delivers in the weeks ahead is the need for unity and what we have in common as Americans. 

Is anyone else on the bell curve as weary with our broken system of governance as I am? Although the last four years have been hard, our slide toward demonizing the opposition and legislative entropy didn't begin in 2016. I remain convinced term limits for all members of Congress, combined with strict oversight over the influence of lobbyists, would be two big steps in the right direction. But I'm not naive. I'll settle for what I hope for in my three bullets above. What are your hopes for the day after tomorrow and beyond? 

Your Masterpiece

What subject has retained its allure for you for as long as you can recall? And what have been your most recent discoveries reflecting on that subject? 

Creativity - in all its manifestations - is endlessly fascinating to me. I'm unable to count the number of books I've read, lectures I've listened to, conversations I've had about creativity. Each time I think I've exhausted the subject, a new discovery awaits. The only certainty that has remained with me is an elegant definition of creativity I heard many years ago:  Novel associations that are useful.

I believe everyone has the capacity to be creative. But my experience has shown me that many people frequently choose to ignore creative impulses. Recently, whenever I think I might be succumbing to this impulse, I gently remind myself to welcome my muse. I started using this simple technique soon after beginning to suspect that the people who history venerates - be they composers, authors, visual artists - are likely the same people highly attuned to their muse, i.e. they follow most, if not all, of their creative impulses, wherever those impulses lead. Consider for a moment: Not everything any revered artist - alive or dead - creates is of equal merit. But those folks keep creating, putting their creations in the world anyway. The people many of us celebrate for their creativity know well that others will be the judge of what is worth remembering. 

How attuned are you to your muse? In other words, are you more inclined to ignore creative impulses or follow them wherever they lead? Put aside the fact that you, like me, are not "known" for your creative output. Just live in that question for a moment. I've discovered that when I'm in a black hole with thoughts about giving up a creative endeavor, reminding myself to pay closer attention to the muse helps me climb out. Call my or your impulse to create whatever suits you. But don't ignore it; your masterpiece is closer than you think.      

  

Amy: In Memoriam

What author has touched you so personally that you've sometimes wished you had that author as a friend? I know I'm not alone among readers on this although it's possible no one will admit it here. No matter.

I clearly recall reading the NY Times Modern Love column entitled You May Want To Marry My Husband in early 2017 when it was published. I also recall being sad to learn that the author - Amy Krouse Rosenthal - died soon after. When my wife gave me a book of essays culled from Modern Love - edited by Daniel Jones - last Christmas, I raced through it, crying when I re-read Rosenthal's piece. Amy and I became imaginary friends that same day. 

This past week a good friend and I were discussing a different book we both enjoyed when Amy's name surfaced somehow. The day after our discussion, this friend thoughtfully loaned two of Amy's books to me, based on both our conversation and the love of lists that my friend, Amy, and I all share. For the first time in my memory, I then read two books by the same author back-to-back. The Book of Eleven (1998) and Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life (2005) are both short, idiosyncratic, wonderful. If Michel de Montaigne were alive today, he'd miss Amy like I do.    

Have you ever missed someone you never met?

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/03/style/modern-love-you-may-want-to-marry-my-husband.html