It's been a LONG time since I've posted to this blog, although I thought a bunch of times about writing on it since January, my last post. Anyway, with the ninth anniversary of 9/11 passing yesterday, I wanted to copy a poem here by former US Poet Laureate Billy Collins which was written some months after the terrorist attacks. It is the only poem I've ever read in the New York Times.
As people debate whether a mosque should be built two blocks from Ground Zero (talk about throwing gasoline on a still smoldering fire), I think it's important to remember "The Names."
"The Names" - Billy Collins
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.
Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.
In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name --
Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.
A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.
Monogram on a torn shirt,
I see you spelled out on storefront windows
And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.
I say the syllables as I turn a corner --
Kelly and Lee,
Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor.
When I peer into the woods,
I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden
As in a puzzle concocted for children.
Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,
Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,
Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.
Names written in the pale sky.
Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.
Names silent in stone
Or cried out behind a door.
Names blown over the earth and out to sea.
In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows.
A boy on a lake lifts his oars.
A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,
And the names are outlined on the rose clouds --
Vanacore and Wallace,
(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)
Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.
Names etched on the head of a pin.
One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled into the skin.
Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,
The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.
Alphabet of names in a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds.
Names lifted from a hat
Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory.
So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Sunday, December 13, 2009
An Evening with Garrison Keillor
It's an unfortunate thing when a celebrity performer whom you have come to enjoy fails to meet expectations. Sometimes, it's a bad day. Other times, it's a signal that retirement may be looming.
Garrison Keillor, whose "Prairie Home Companion" NPR radio show delights its listeners and live audiences with humor, music, acting, poetry, and insightful commentaries, came to Hartford's Bushnell Theater last week. I thought it would be a good idea to see him.
What I was expecting, I suppose, was a Prairie Home-type performance.
But it was just Garrison Keillor - no band, no actors, no one to accompany him.
It was sort of like Jerry Seinfeld with no supporting cast.
Keillor was on stage alone, just him and a microphone and a stool.
He sang frequently, and as anyone who has heard him knows, he pretty much can't sing. Audiences tolerate his singing because his shows usually consist of much more. He told stories, which he is very good at. But on this night, he was forgetful - a warning sign that, maybe, just maybe, his age (67) and health condition (he suffered a mild stroke in the fall) are catching up with him.
At one point, he referred to a poem by ee cummings but forgot its name. ("You know the one" he told the audience) Another time, he forgot a word (which I have since forgotten, too) during a story, and then remembered it minutes later.
So it was disappointing to see a subpar performance from a performer who is consistently smart and smooth. I got the sense that "An Evening with Garrison Keillor" is just too much. Being on a stage for 90 minutes with no intermission and no supporting cast is not Keillor's strength. His strengths are the skits he does such as "Guy Noir" Private Eye, The News from Lake Wobegon, and the many other features he has developed into his weekly show.
The audience at the Bushnell, also, was a bit different from his Prairie Home shows at Tanglewood, where we see him each year. Tanglewood is a diverse mix of people, young and old. Kids frolic on the lawn while their parents drink beer. Teenagers find themselves wandering on the Tanglewood grounds, experimenting with certain illegal behavior. Older folks there tend to be hip.
At the Bushnell, the audience was clearly AARP-eligible. The heads around me were mostly gray or bald, and although some gray hairs have emerged on my head, and there isn't as much on my top as there used to be, I felt like I was not a part of the advertised demographic. I felt like I was rushing things, being there at the Bushnell where the mean age of the audience members was probably 20 years older than me. I felt like maybe I needed to find a performance more my age.
A comforting thing did occur today, though, when, on the way home, I tuned into my car radio and listened this week's Prairie Home Companion, and it was good. Garrison Keillor's usual skits and familiar delivery were unsurprising but warm and comfortable, sort of like a meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Normally, I'm not a fan of such bland diner food, but after listening to Keillor's monologue today, I felt encouraged that he still had his A game for the Prairie Home program.
Garrison Keillor, whose "Prairie Home Companion" NPR radio show delights its listeners and live audiences with humor, music, acting, poetry, and insightful commentaries, came to Hartford's Bushnell Theater last week. I thought it would be a good idea to see him.
What I was expecting, I suppose, was a Prairie Home-type performance.
But it was just Garrison Keillor - no band, no actors, no one to accompany him.
It was sort of like Jerry Seinfeld with no supporting cast.
Keillor was on stage alone, just him and a microphone and a stool.
He sang frequently, and as anyone who has heard him knows, he pretty much can't sing. Audiences tolerate his singing because his shows usually consist of much more. He told stories, which he is very good at. But on this night, he was forgetful - a warning sign that, maybe, just maybe, his age (67) and health condition (he suffered a mild stroke in the fall) are catching up with him.
At one point, he referred to a poem by ee cummings but forgot its name. ("You know the one" he told the audience) Another time, he forgot a word (which I have since forgotten, too) during a story, and then remembered it minutes later.
So it was disappointing to see a subpar performance from a performer who is consistently smart and smooth. I got the sense that "An Evening with Garrison Keillor" is just too much. Being on a stage for 90 minutes with no intermission and no supporting cast is not Keillor's strength. His strengths are the skits he does such as "Guy Noir" Private Eye, The News from Lake Wobegon, and the many other features he has developed into his weekly show.
The audience at the Bushnell, also, was a bit different from his Prairie Home shows at Tanglewood, where we see him each year. Tanglewood is a diverse mix of people, young and old. Kids frolic on the lawn while their parents drink beer. Teenagers find themselves wandering on the Tanglewood grounds, experimenting with certain illegal behavior. Older folks there tend to be hip.
At the Bushnell, the audience was clearly AARP-eligible. The heads around me were mostly gray or bald, and although some gray hairs have emerged on my head, and there isn't as much on my top as there used to be, I felt like I was not a part of the advertised demographic. I felt like I was rushing things, being there at the Bushnell where the mean age of the audience members was probably 20 years older than me. I felt like maybe I needed to find a performance more my age.
A comforting thing did occur today, though, when, on the way home, I tuned into my car radio and listened this week's Prairie Home Companion, and it was good. Garrison Keillor's usual skits and familiar delivery were unsurprising but warm and comfortable, sort of like a meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Normally, I'm not a fan of such bland diner food, but after listening to Keillor's monologue today, I felt encouraged that he still had his A game for the Prairie Home program.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Thinking Snow Day
Unlike some other educators (who are lying), I will not deny that snow days are a fringe benefit to teaching that I enjoy a lot. Teachers don't get company stock options; we don't get company cars; we don't have expense accounts. But we do have the occasional thrill in the winter of getting a day off because of snowy or icy weather.
Tomorrow is one such day - the first possible weather problem during a school day this year. As a teacher, when winter arrives, you start to watch the weather in advance. Suddenly, the 8-day forecast matters (even though predicting weather that far in advance is ludicrous). I listen to "traffic and weather together" on AM radio, which has generally reliable forecasts. I check it online. I look at the radar. Where's the green? Where's the white? I tune into the Weather Channel for a national perspective. Maybe the "Winter Weather Expert", the bald guy with the doctorate, will be on.
Valid question: What does the winter weather expert do during the other three seasons?
Snow days mean days are added to the end of the school year, but June days, especially at the end of the month, tend to be irrelevant. An unexpected day off in December, January or February is a welcome surprise, sort of like getting a card in the mail with cash in it for no reason. (Note: This rarely has ever happened to me.)
Tomorrow's weather is not looking that horrible; there's probably a better chance that school will be delayed 90 minutes. The weatherguys are calling for 1-3 inches of snow, with all precipitation changing to rain in mid-morning. Still, the roads could be difficult to travel on. The snow/sleet mix is falling at precisely the right time - 3 to 7 a.m. Either way, delay or cancellation, what other job exists that has snow days built in as a possible benefit? On snow days, I get to shovel the driveway before anyone else, play in the snow with the kids, go sledding, and hang around the house NOT WORKING. It's a beautiful thing.
As I prepare to watch the final weather forecast of the night, I hear the weatherman talking about a "messy weather day" tomorrow. When he finishes, I need to decide: Do I listen to another forecast, the 11 p.m. one, to see if anything different/better gets reported? This does sometimes happen. You listen/watch to who tells you what you want to hear.
This is also a good strategy for choosing friends, now that I think about it.
Right now, this guy's saying the morning commutte is not looking very good. That's when buses are on the road. Sounds good to me. Don't think I need to listen to another forecast tonight.
Tomorrow is one such day - the first possible weather problem during a school day this year. As a teacher, when winter arrives, you start to watch the weather in advance. Suddenly, the 8-day forecast matters (even though predicting weather that far in advance is ludicrous). I listen to "traffic and weather together" on AM radio, which has generally reliable forecasts. I check it online. I look at the radar. Where's the green? Where's the white? I tune into the Weather Channel for a national perspective. Maybe the "Winter Weather Expert", the bald guy with the doctorate, will be on.
Valid question: What does the winter weather expert do during the other three seasons?
Snow days mean days are added to the end of the school year, but June days, especially at the end of the month, tend to be irrelevant. An unexpected day off in December, January or February is a welcome surprise, sort of like getting a card in the mail with cash in it for no reason. (Note: This rarely has ever happened to me.)
Tomorrow's weather is not looking that horrible; there's probably a better chance that school will be delayed 90 minutes. The weatherguys are calling for 1-3 inches of snow, with all precipitation changing to rain in mid-morning. Still, the roads could be difficult to travel on. The snow/sleet mix is falling at precisely the right time - 3 to 7 a.m. Either way, delay or cancellation, what other job exists that has snow days built in as a possible benefit? On snow days, I get to shovel the driveway before anyone else, play in the snow with the kids, go sledding, and hang around the house NOT WORKING. It's a beautiful thing.
As I prepare to watch the final weather forecast of the night, I hear the weatherman talking about a "messy weather day" tomorrow. When he finishes, I need to decide: Do I listen to another forecast, the 11 p.m. one, to see if anything different/better gets reported? This does sometimes happen. You listen/watch to who tells you what you want to hear.
This is also a good strategy for choosing friends, now that I think about it.
Right now, this guy's saying the morning commutte is not looking very good. That's when buses are on the road. Sounds good to me. Don't think I need to listen to another forecast tonight.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Out of touch with the American Music Awards
In yet another sign that my age is not the primary target demographic of advertisers, popular culture, and now music, I watched the American Music Awards tonight and failed to recognize three of the four award-winners featured in a half-hour time frame.
The ones that I did recognize were: Whitney Houston, who received the International Music Award, for her lifelong impact on the music industry. It was pointed out that she has had 7 number one hits and has sold 170 million records. Many of these were from the 1980s, when she sang such hits as "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" and "How Will I Know?" She is now old enough to receive a lifetime achievement-type award, and, although she may have have "work" done to not appear as if she's aging, she has gotta be in her early 40s. She is no spring chicken.
Jennifer Lopez was the other singer I recognized. She was introduced by the "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" boxing announcer and then she pranced down an aisle to a makeshift stage wearing a boxing robe. She sang a song that had something to do with this boxing theme, but I can't remember its name. It was pretty bad, and I felt strange for knowing who she was, but not being able to name a song she sings. I'm making her connection mostly through Ben Affleck.
I could not recognize most other nominees and performers. One woman, who was dressed oddly in a panty hose-like outfit (even covering her eyes)took a microphone stand, simulated breaking glass and then played a piano that was partly on fire. She performed and then was nominated for the Best Artist award. I would be really concerned if she won.
Special effects seemed to be loom large on this night, as other performers, including J Lo, featured explosives on stage. The audience seemed to like it. I wonder if the TV audience did.
I don't remember, really, specifics about the American Music Awards when I was a kid, but I think Kenny Rogers and Neil Diamond may have won some awards. A few years ago, James Taylor won an award, I think, for being old. I recall John Mayer winning an award several years ago, too, for "Your Body is a Wonderland." (Almost typed "Wonderful," there.)
It's weird, though. I listen to top 40 radio pretty often and know bands' names, yet the bands featured tonight were... I don't know... not from top 40. Maybe they're from the rap/dance station genre. Not into that anymore. Stations I listen to which say they're oldies now play 80s music, which is old, but not that old. This is discouraging.
Kings of Leon - who I have heard of and like - was up for Artist of the Year, along with the psycho-looking woman performer. But, again, three of the four nominees were unknown to me. Not like I matter, anyway. I'm 36, nearly 37, and getting to the almost middle age part of life. Advertisements, like for iPhones and TMobile, the sponsor of tonight's event, aren't meant for me. People in my age bracket are just not that influential.
Now, when I watch the Nightly News, and the ads for cholesterol medications come on... now that's closer to my reality. Sadly.
The ones that I did recognize were: Whitney Houston, who received the International Music Award, for her lifelong impact on the music industry. It was pointed out that she has had 7 number one hits and has sold 170 million records. Many of these were from the 1980s, when she sang such hits as "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" and "How Will I Know?" She is now old enough to receive a lifetime achievement-type award, and, although she may have have "work" done to not appear as if she's aging, she has gotta be in her early 40s. She is no spring chicken.
Jennifer Lopez was the other singer I recognized. She was introduced by the "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" boxing announcer and then she pranced down an aisle to a makeshift stage wearing a boxing robe. She sang a song that had something to do with this boxing theme, but I can't remember its name. It was pretty bad, and I felt strange for knowing who she was, but not being able to name a song she sings. I'm making her connection mostly through Ben Affleck.
I could not recognize most other nominees and performers. One woman, who was dressed oddly in a panty hose-like outfit (even covering her eyes)took a microphone stand, simulated breaking glass and then played a piano that was partly on fire. She performed and then was nominated for the Best Artist award. I would be really concerned if she won.
Special effects seemed to be loom large on this night, as other performers, including J Lo, featured explosives on stage. The audience seemed to like it. I wonder if the TV audience did.
I don't remember, really, specifics about the American Music Awards when I was a kid, but I think Kenny Rogers and Neil Diamond may have won some awards. A few years ago, James Taylor won an award, I think, for being old. I recall John Mayer winning an award several years ago, too, for "Your Body is a Wonderland." (Almost typed "Wonderful," there.)
It's weird, though. I listen to top 40 radio pretty often and know bands' names, yet the bands featured tonight were... I don't know... not from top 40. Maybe they're from the rap/dance station genre. Not into that anymore. Stations I listen to which say they're oldies now play 80s music, which is old, but not that old. This is discouraging.
Kings of Leon - who I have heard of and like - was up for Artist of the Year, along with the psycho-looking woman performer. But, again, three of the four nominees were unknown to me. Not like I matter, anyway. I'm 36, nearly 37, and getting to the almost middle age part of life. Advertisements, like for iPhones and TMobile, the sponsor of tonight's event, aren't meant for me. People in my age bracket are just not that influential.
Now, when I watch the Nightly News, and the ads for cholesterol medications come on... now that's closer to my reality. Sadly.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Leaf-blowing blows
The leaves, except for just a few stubborn ones, have fallen, now. They have fallen across the back and front yards, blanketing most of my property. Since we own over an acre and live on a heavily wooded lot, last year we decided that it was time to stop raking and get a leaf blower. This was, mostly, a good idea.
But leaf blowing still sucks.
It has consumed large fragments of my time for the last three weeks. An hour after work, 45 minutes on a Saturday morning, an hour and a half on a Sunday. This weekend, I probably spent about three hours in all blowing leaves into the woods, and I'm still not done.
I will admit that blowing the leaves is definitely easier than raking them. We have just too many to rake. A few weeks ago, though, when I was trying to start the leaf blower, I pulled the starter string too vigorously, I guess, and the string wouldn't recoil. Thus, I ended up raking the front yard. Now, after a $45 repair, the leaf blower is back in action.
We probably have another half day to clean the leaves up. Then, I get to mow the lawn one last time, vacuuming the remnants of autumn, before winter drops its own coating upon the lawn and the driveway.
What do I think of snowblowing, you ask? I will not get into that right now, but you can read an older post here.
But leaf blowing still sucks.
It has consumed large fragments of my time for the last three weeks. An hour after work, 45 minutes on a Saturday morning, an hour and a half on a Sunday. This weekend, I probably spent about three hours in all blowing leaves into the woods, and I'm still not done.
I will admit that blowing the leaves is definitely easier than raking them. We have just too many to rake. A few weeks ago, though, when I was trying to start the leaf blower, I pulled the starter string too vigorously, I guess, and the string wouldn't recoil. Thus, I ended up raking the front yard. Now, after a $45 repair, the leaf blower is back in action.
We probably have another half day to clean the leaves up. Then, I get to mow the lawn one last time, vacuuming the remnants of autumn, before winter drops its own coating upon the lawn and the driveway.
What do I think of snowblowing, you ask? I will not get into that right now, but you can read an older post here.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Public radio fundraising and touchless paper towel dispensers
Two things that irritate me.
First, public radio fundraising drives. It's not that I wouldn't possibly give money to NPR or Connecticut Public Radio or public television. It's the approach that the broadcasters have during these annoying "pledge campaigns." - especially on TV, but on radio, too. They try to make you feel guilty if you don't give. Like you are actually stealing the content.
If public radio/TV wants to raise more money, they need to stop this approach. It's actually a negative campaign. Public radio, like all of radio, has advertising, but in the form of sponsors, grants, foundation support, and corporate donations. I have read recently that public media is doing well financially, although they claim to rely on money from private individuals to run their operations. If they want more people to consider giving, mail them some information. That's the only way I'd consider it. I'm not going to call in a pledge.
One trick that makes me feel better about this is when I know NPR is looking for money, I quickly switch the station just as the announcer comes on, cutting him off in mid-sentence. It is strangely satisfying.
Second thing: Touchless paper towel dispensers, now commonplace in restaurant bathrooms. In an effort to save paper (and money), these dispensers only give about 6inches of paper towel. Then you have to wave your hand in front of it to get more. This practice may actually be more annoying than public broadcasting fundraisers.
I don't know how much money this saves businesses, but I hate being restricted about how many paper towels I use. (I do tend to take a lot.) So, now, because I feel the restaurant is unnecessarily controlling me, I just hold my hand in front of the dispenser and take far more than I truly need.
When there are two dispensers side by side, I hold my hand in front of both of them. I suggest that you also do this, just to be a pain.
Sometimes, you need these little passive-aggressive behaviors to help you to cope with daily annoyances.
First, public radio fundraising drives. It's not that I wouldn't possibly give money to NPR or Connecticut Public Radio or public television. It's the approach that the broadcasters have during these annoying "pledge campaigns." - especially on TV, but on radio, too. They try to make you feel guilty if you don't give. Like you are actually stealing the content.
If public radio/TV wants to raise more money, they need to stop this approach. It's actually a negative campaign. Public radio, like all of radio, has advertising, but in the form of sponsors, grants, foundation support, and corporate donations. I have read recently that public media is doing well financially, although they claim to rely on money from private individuals to run their operations. If they want more people to consider giving, mail them some information. That's the only way I'd consider it. I'm not going to call in a pledge.
One trick that makes me feel better about this is when I know NPR is looking for money, I quickly switch the station just as the announcer comes on, cutting him off in mid-sentence. It is strangely satisfying.
Second thing: Touchless paper towel dispensers, now commonplace in restaurant bathrooms. In an effort to save paper (and money), these dispensers only give about 6inches of paper towel. Then you have to wave your hand in front of it to get more. This practice may actually be more annoying than public broadcasting fundraisers.
I don't know how much money this saves businesses, but I hate being restricted about how many paper towels I use. (I do tend to take a lot.) So, now, because I feel the restaurant is unnecessarily controlling me, I just hold my hand in front of the dispenser and take far more than I truly need.
When there are two dispensers side by side, I hold my hand in front of both of them. I suggest that you also do this, just to be a pain.
Sometimes, you need these little passive-aggressive behaviors to help you to cope with daily annoyances.
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