Auld Lang Syne

Today's a day for looking back and forward. Elizabeth Scalia and Peggy Noonan with some great thoughts on the song.

For us personally, it's been an interesting year. We've had some challenges and lots of blessings. There have been an unusual number of marriages in the family this year, and we've gotten to meet some new family members. David just got an interesting new job. All in all, I feel pretty grateful right now. We won't be going out, but Ken brought us some sparkling cider with which to "tak a cup o' kindness". Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.

Dougie MacLean with all the lyrics to the great old song here. It really is remarkable that this song has stuck with us through changes in culture and language. I think that's a good thing. Here's Guy Lombardo's instrumental if you want to sing it yourself. Another interesting tradition.

Hope everyone is looking forward to a bright New Year.

If you want something a little different for New Years Day, you might try Blackeyed Pea Confetti Salad

George Washington's Birthday, 2010

Well, I haven't posted here since New Year's Eve and it's George Washington's Birthday already.

It's been a busy beginning of the year. We have (thankfully) had more rain than last year. But some  politicians,  bureaucrats and environmentalists are still set on dramatically limiting irrigation water to the West Side, despite the greater-than-normal rainfall. Our region's unemployment rate is likely to remain among the highest in the nation. One of the most productive food-growing areas in the world is being taken out of production. More wrangling ahead.

We also had some beautiful sunny days in January, sort of like Southern California January days. Then more rain, and chillier weather, even a little fog. Worrisome during apricot and peach blossom time. But we need the water.

Aunt Helen

Perhaps the most notable personal thing which has happened since the beginning of the year was our fond farewell to David's Aunt Helen at her funeral Saturday. She was staying with David when we got married, and she continued to stay with us for a while before moving in with David's Mom and Dad. David told the  people at the funeral about Aunt Helen's contented reaction to his insistence that she not wait for him to tell her what to do.  And he told the story about  her over-enthusiastic jump into the rocking chair, which went backward through the window.  She was lots of fun. We'll miss her a lot.  So will  other people.

At 92, though, she was ready to go home. She did not have an easy life.  She had developed some difficult health problems.

Her childhood was one of extreme poverty.   But you would not know it from her cheerful, straightforward, fun-loving manner. Nice to think of her with her husband, Uncle Pete, again.

We took a wrong turn on the Weedpatch Highway, on the way to the funeral, and saw the little town of Lamont near Bakerfield, where Aunt Helen once lived with Uncle Pete and their children. The town has nice homes behind fancy gates next to run-down trailers with goats in the front yard. It also features a refinery, and many typical elements of a hard-scrabble rural California town. When Aunt Helen and Uncle Pete were first married, they lived in a tent. Living in a home in Lamont was a big step up for them.

Trip to Utah

We went for another short trip to Utah early in the month. We got to see some wonderful mountain vistas and we went to a family birthday dinner celebration for Jake and  others at Rainbow Gardens, where I swam as a child, and where cousin Marie once got a nasty shin injury, as I recall. The swimming pools are gone now. The clientele got too rowdy. The bowling alley survived longer, but it's gone now, too. Rainbow Gardens has gone moderately up-scale.

The Ogden River runs under a corner of the building, and you can go onto the porch in the (now) gift shop and watch the water. An ancestor of the King Family which owns this establishment gave my grandparents credit for their photography business during the Great Depression.  They always expressed gratitude for this act of kindness.

We also got to visit with Keira, and we saw where Wally works.   I heard a book review at Mom's book club, in a beautiful home in the hills.  I took charge of their newly inherited little dog.

We took a look at the Felix home up the road from Mom.  It's for sale again.  Probably not an option for us at this time.  Big yard, big kitchen, out-dated, needs work.  Not that David couldn't do the work.

Music

Mom took us, and two of her friends, to a Utah Symphony Pops concert featuring Big Bad Voodoo Daddy  during the second half of the program.   The first half of the program featured standard Pops fare such as the Hungarian Dance No. 5, Sabre Dance and the Beautiful Blue Danube.  The conductor, David Cho, was chatty and engaged in a little Pops-type comedy - even juggling during the "Dance of the Comedians".  They played a Big Band medley.  It was all great.

The guest artists were refreshingly non-nihilistic and non-whiny for contemporary pop music - mostly a Big Band "retro" sound with other jazz and contemporary flavors. They're rather self-promoting showmen. Tons of energy. They did some familiar Cab Calloway pieces. They involved the audience as singers in some of them. Noisy. Fun, brash, theatrical, but not the ultimate in musicianship. It was an interesting cultural encounter for many regular symphony patrons. Some felt open-minded listening to this group.  Others were not sure quite what to think. Mom's friend Valeen said  "I don't like being yelled at".  I can barely imagine what their reaction would be to, say, Lady GaGa.

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's original works are no match for, say, Gershwin. Still, I think it's nice that they are successful. Although they've been doing the rounds with pops orchestras, I have a feeling that the "Big Bad Voodoo Daddy Experience" would be more suited to a nightclub stage than to a sliver of stage in front of a big orchestra. When they played with the larger group, the effect was sometimes a bit ponderous.  One interesting effect was their use of bass and tenor (I think) saxophones playing the same notes. Gave an interesting depth to certain licks.

The symphony's chief clarinetist plays Big Band pieces with more finesse than the famous guest artists did. He's doing an Artie Shaw retrospective concert at a synagogue in Salt Lake soon. We spoke with him backstage before the performance.

I also went with Mom to one of her music clubs, and heard an interesting lesson on the musical sons (and a grandson) of J.S. Bach. I hadn't given them enough credit in the past, I think. One, the "London Bach", was Mozart's mentor, and some of his work sounds like early Mozart. Another wrote pieces which sound more like Haydn, yet another used counterpoint in a way which differed a little from his father's use of this musical style. They deserve to be known as more than the children of J.S. Bach. The family apparently dominated the musical world in Germany for some time.

We also heard a summery Lullaby by contemporary American composer George Winston. Sheet music can be bought and printed online. I think I might even be able to learn it.

On the Home Front

Back home, David's been tearing parts of the house apart and putting them back together, better. I've planted way more tomato seeds than we can use.  That good January weather looked so promising, and it's the standard time for planting tomato seeds here - even a week or two late, actually.  I planted some other things, too. We'll see how they do through the coming storms.

 David and I have both had persistent respiratory infections, like a lot of people in town.  We're starting to get back up to speed.

I buried our shy, shy kitty Brewster today. I think he had been hit by a car.  David saw a cat he though looked like Brewster at the edge of the road a ways from the house, and I went to check.  Sure looked like Brewster, though I couldn't find the knot that had always been on his tummy (the Vet didn't seem concerned - don't know what it was).  I didn't look too hard, though.  He had been feeling a little punky before he disappeared a couple of days ago, I think.  But he was still eating, etc. He had let me pick him up and pet him a few times during the last couple of weeks, which was rare behavior for him. But he was terrified when I took him in the house, and he would not let me look into his face. He was being extra affectionate with the other cats toward the end of his life, too.

He was too shy to have been a full-fledged "pet" - one of those cats who sometimes panic when you try to pet them and nearly die of fright on a trip to the vet.  But it's nice to have a half-wild cat around. Especially a gentle one. We'll miss him.

We've learned of some very serious challenges  for friends.  One young friend has just undergone a bone marrow transplant for a rare blood disorder.  She's grateful for the chance of a cure.  Another friend's grandson was born with displaced organs.  She was highly touched by a nurse who expressed appreciation for being able to help families with problems like these.

We need to count our blessings.  Loving family and friends, people who help, rain, etc., etc.

Happy New Year!

Tending skittish dogs tonight - they're afraid of fireworks and firearms. Not very New Years Eve-ish. But no matter. There's a "blue moon" tonight: the second full moon of the month. We can listen to Ella Fitzgerald.

We've had an interesting week: the furnace went out on Christmas Eve day and David did a not-to-subtle reindeer imitation on Christmas morning - stomping on the roof when he got stuck after the ice re-froze while he was up there. I squirted it down again and he made it off the roof safely - only slipping once. He needed a part, so our heat was mostly from baking in the oven and from a little parabolic space heater in the bathroom. It was almost enough. Makes you think about how much you heat the house up in the summer when you turn on the oven. David got the part Monday - 5 days (well, counting part-days) of a cool-ish house. I was glad we weren't in North Dakota.

My Christmas morning heating project was baking cornbread. David and Ken had some with pinto beans for breakfast. I made cornbread dressing and marinated broccoli salad to take to David's Mom and Dad's for Christmas Dinner. Prime rib, 4 kinds of pie, etc. Lots of people there. Lots of conversation. Since I can't eat corn, I made some bread dressing for myself with a little leftover bread from Christmas, fresh sage, onions, celery and chicken broth, but I didn't take it to dinner. There was plenty of food there.

Since I got some people cardamom pods for Christmas, I made some orange-cardamom pumpkin bread on Saturday to warm up the house, and some butter-pecan applesauce bread (recipe needs a little work). I decided that a tiny mortar and pestle was not sufficient for crushing cardamom seeds, and I discovered that tapping it with a hammer in a heavy plastic bag (from a cracker box) works much better. Feels sort of primitive to go out to the garage to beat spices to powder. But it's much less primitive than the actual primitive task of grinding grains with a smooth rock. We take so many things for granted.

We've got ham for tomorrow. I got blackeyed peas and a Pasilla pepper for this New Year's Salad.

The doggie logistics have dumbed me down for now. Don't feel like doing much. At the moment, I have Lucky and Troy. David has Maggie. Our geriatric dogs, Sparky and Dottie, are getting deaf and so far they're O.K. in their usual hangouts. Sparky may need to come in later. Little Buddy is not afraid of the noise, and stays in the big doghouse with his little heater. Things are fine, but not exactly festive.

I'm not feeling too philosophical right at the moment, either. But I found some interesting images and music before Christmas which you might like. And then some information about Hanukkah, if you're up for a little deeper thought. Or, for a more personal topic, an Alternative to New Years Resolutions, The Uberlist.

Hope everyone has a great year.

Thanking Our Veterans

A Veteran knows things: He knows life is precious, because he’s seen
life cut short. He knows life is strange, because those that should die
live and those who have the most life sometimes die. He knows life is
not easily wrapped up in a box philosophically. He knows that plans
fail. He knows there’s such a thing as luck. A veteran chooses his hard
lessons and walks toward them.

Veterans at the World War II Memorial in Washington D.C. The video is kind of hard to get through without a tear or two. They were brought to the memorial by an organization dedicated to providing such trips. An American volunteer organization which de Toqueville might recognize as similar to the voluntary organizations of yesteryear which he thought were such an important feature of American culture. I expect that this organization would accept a donation from you.

Two songs, one for WWII and Korean vets, the other for Vietnam Vets. More tears for me, especially knowing some of the experiences David's Dad went through. And the trials that others in our families and among our friends have gone through. The website supports training for companion dogs for disabled veterans. Such a great idea. They accept donations. Or, there's this bipartisan effort, started on 11/11, to encourage 11 million Americans to donate 11 dollars to veteran support groups.

The VFW in our little town have been out handing out little poppies for donations for a couple of days now. I first saw them on the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I always donate and pick up a couple of poppies, even though the fabric ones of today aren't as nice as the paper ones, handmade, they used to hand out.

Once, on a night train with Yvonne to Paris, I woke up in the early morning to see a field of poppies out the train window, just like the poppies in Flanders Fields. Kind of made the poem real to me. Europe has seen so much war over the centuries and suffered through two horrific wars in the last century. Right where I was at that moment, there may have been a battle in the past. Certainly there were battles not far from there. But the field looked peaceful from my train window in the dawn light.

I know it's not Memorial Day, but Veteran's Day also makes me think of Grandpa Smith, a chaplain in World War I. Flanders is, of course, in Belgium, from whence he was writing.

Hope your Veterans Day today is rich and meaningful.

Mom's 80th Birthday Party

Not everyone throws a party with dancing when they turn 80. But Mom did, of course. It was a wonderful idea and I think everyone had a good time.

We had a hectic afternoon last Saturday, but I managed to get a few pictures. I haven't figured out how to get any of them on this blog page yet. All of Mom's kids were there. Jeanine flew in from Oregon. We had lots of other relatives and friends, there, too. Many people with wonderful memories of past times together.

Mom planned the colors for her party around a tablecloth her sister, Claudia, had given her. The roosters on the tablecloth had a little lavender in their tail feathers. She had lavender flatware, plates and napkins, lavender M&Ms and a lavender hydrangea as a centerpiece on the refreshment table. She ordered chocolate and carrot cakes and bought nuts at a specialty store where they keep nuts fresh. We prepared cheese and grapes just before the party. David bought dates to go with the nuts.

It was one of those relaxed kinds of parties with old-time country dancing. You could hear yourself over the music. Which was a good thing, because there were a lot of interesting people to talk to.

Mom's friends who played for the party included musicians who played at the driveway dance at our wedding reception. Mom arranged that, too. Jeanine joined them for a few pieces.

Last Saturday, Julie taught and called the Virginia Reel - more like this one than this one. My foot stuck to the floor when I was sliding (nephew David was my partner, and he was enthusiastic). I fell but was not injured, thanks to the floor in the cultural hall which is built like the floor of a basketball court. Note to self: Get some dancing shoes. No more rubber soles when dancing.

I taught some of the nieces, nephews and others a rudimentary Varsovienne and a simple Schottische. Not nearly as fancy as this one, danced in a square. It was the elementary school version, sort of a partnered line dance. It's a very old, genteel dance. Some new steps for the Sweetheart Schottische here. Never considered doing the Schottische to Reggae until I read the Wikipedia entry.

You could dance the swing to many of the pieces played at Mom's party. More people knew the Swing than many of the older dances. And there were waltzes and polkas. It was the kind of a dance where Betty could become a boy to teach the Virginia Reel to a little girl, and where the young father of a disabled little girl did not need to feel self-conscious about taking her to the middle of the floor to dance with her, in her wheelchair.

A lovely evening. It started to rain as we got home. A brief downpour, with thunder, started as soon as we had unloaded the car. Dramatic. David, in the kitchen, thought he heard gunfire. Jeanine, in the living room, discovered that it was fireworks after the football game at the university. So we watched fireworks from the front door. Not everybody rates fireworks at the end of their birthday party. But Mom did. She deserved it.

I'll write more about our little trip later.

Memories with Marilyn

It was wonderful to see my cousin Marilyn at the family reunion. My memories of her go way back. When she was a preschooler, she became famous in the family for her ability to identify the makes and models of just about any car on the road. She got some coaching from her Dad. I wasn't famous for anything at that age. I wondered if I would ever develop a skill comparable to her mastery of car recognition.

We are about the same age and once lived only a few blocks apart. We played together. Marilyn and Carolyn. Once in a while, we also hung out with our more sophisticated cousin Marie. Marie's older sister, Lynne, even put up with us. Marilyn and I reminisced at the reunion about an early memory of the mystery disappearance of the little moths we had caught. They vanished from the little plastic purses in which we were "saving" them. I can't imagine Marie doing anything like putting little moths in a purse, even when very young.

Despite our joint insect experiences, Marilyn never developed much of a tolerance for spiders. Once, when she and Dana were newlyweds living in the Farner's basement (at least, I think it was the Farner's house) she called me and I walked up to catch a spider that was in her house. It was quite a big one. Ever seen a picture of a woman standing on a chair because of a mouse in the house? It wasn't quite that bad. I think fear of spiders or snakes is just built into some people.

Growing up, I had bad dreams about black widows. I developed little rituals for jumping down stairs which I imagined would protect me if there were a black widow in the corner of the bottom step in the basement. But I was usually not too upset by other spiders. Mom told stories about watching spiders spin their webs above her head on the sleeping porch in the summer when she was growing up - including Black Widows. I fell somewhere between Mom and Marilyn on the "fear of spiders" scale.

I also have a fragmentary early memory of something to do with Marilyn's sweet younger sister Suzie and an earwig. I tried eating ants once, Suzie. And I think Suzie once drank perfume, too.

I remember their Mynah bird. Too cool. Later, Marilyn's mother, my aunt Marlene, adopted an orphaned (by its previous owner) caiman. Not everyone's aunt adopts a caiman. They take some specialized care. If someone had arranged for a dozen strangers to mingle with all my aunts and uncles on both sides of the family, and then asked the strangers which of my relatives they thought had a caiman at home, I don't think many would have chosen Aunt Marlene. But I really don't know who they WOULD have chosen.

Marilyn and I sometimes visited with Grandma and Grandpa together, too. When we were little, Grandpa taught us to sing Ach du lieber Augustin in German. Somewhere along the line, I also picked up the first verse to this song. Lyrics here. Sing along.

When I still thought I was too young to be a fan of a popular music group, Marilyn was already a fan of the Kingston Trio. We listened to their records in her basement room. I always think of them in striped shirts, for some reason. I remember the banjo snd guitars, as well as the singing.

Somehow, all these years, I have missed Steve Martin's banjo career, however. I thought of the Kingston Trio again when I came across a Steve Martin Banjo video today.

When we were teenagers, I remember Marilyn and Suzie's younger brother Jeff, Lynne and Marie's younger brother Brad and my younger brother Brent as sometimes being kind of ornery or mischievous at family gatherings. They've all reformed now.

It's nice to have extended family.

The Power of the Pause

A momentary silence in music or in other forms of art can be powerful. It's the power of the unknown, the power of anticipation. All you new piano players out there: Remember to take your foot off the pedal once in a while. I know it's a little scary sometimes to hear all the notes and the rests more clearly. But you'll be glad later if you get into the habit of paying attention to your pedaling.

Also, the special powers of Ancient Airs and Dances by Ottorino Respighi. "The Cure for Everything".

Notice in the linked video how the smooth transitions between minor and major keys and/or related modes lead you deeper into the music. They're like subtle surprises - changes in mood which you can't quite predict. Even if your mood matched the somber key or mode in which the piece starts, you are swept up by the insistent flow of the music into lighter feelings, with an occasional break into major chords. There is tension between the light, airy tempo and the serious key signatures which dominate the piece. No dramatic silences, no dramatic changes in tempo. The shifts in key are a subtle way to keep you anticipating what comes next. And, of course, the piece ends in a positive major key.

"It will make four hours at the lathe with a bad foot a trip to the confectioner's."

Well, maybe for some people.

Hawaiian Stress Reduction

Our friend, Brandy, recently asked which music "refills your well". I may have missed the point a little in the comments. I included "feel good" types of music in addition to the inspiring, soul-filling kinds. But sometimes I have to work up on inspiring, "fill the well" music with less lofty or contemplative, but still recuperative, music.

When Sister Lee was here, we became more familiar with Hawaian music and instruments. Just being around Hawaiians can help you take on a more relaxed attitude. . The music also tends to reflect this. We bought some IZ, ukulele and slack key guitar CDs. We even bought some ukuleles.

Here are some examples of music from, or with some tenuous connection to, Hawaii or Hawaiian instruments. All are good for taking the edge off the stresses in your life. Here's some slack-string guitar, where even the strings are tuned to low-stress. For fun, some ukulele background. Heavy metal from Hawaii. Slack key taropatch ukulele if you don't want your ukulele strings to be uptight. Baritone uke in slack key. Arthur Godfrey sometimes played a baritone ukulele with Ukulele Ike. Here, Ike does a little ukulele, plus the complete version of "When you wish upon a star", which he performed for Disney.

The Baritone ukulele is tuned like the four highest strings of a guitar when not in one of the slack keys. I figured that four strings would be easier to handle than 5 if I wanted to learn to play. I already have enough trouble with guitars because they seem backward from a piano. The strings on a baritone uke are spaced about as far apart as guitar strings, so guitar players can transfer a lot of their knowledge directly to this instrument.

And of course for real feel-good music, there's that Hawaiian institution, IZ (Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole) performing Over the Rainbow, some beach party music, and a couple of my favorite hulas.

Fiddlin' and Feet, Nova Scotia style

Just for fun. Pretty girls. Maybe could use a little performance costuming. But never mind. Watch their feet.

The Patience of Hope

The title of this post is from Charles Wesley's hymn, Come Let Us Anew. "The Patience of Hope and the Labor of Love" are both important for our success, I think. We've been grappling more with the "Patience of Hope" part of this phrase recently.

The health problems among family and friends are less dramatic now. Debbie's husband is out surgery but still at risk. Cousin Kim's son took a shower recently for the first time after nearly dying of swine flu. Things are looking up for the branch members who were recently so ill. We had a lot of people at the "Munch and Mingle" Sunday.

We've been dealing with maddening bureaucracy pretty steadily for the last couple of weeks. But we've also gotten some help from people who know what they're doing. The kinds of bureaucratic laziness, aggressiveness and arrogance we have encountered are predictable. Especially in California at this time. But things are looking somewhat more positive. The elders gave David a blessing not long ago, and he now seems to have an increased ability to bounce back after encounters with hostile bureaucracy. His brother has retired and is relieved to have largely put similar problems behind him. He's coming to the Valley to pick up some corn and watermelons.

In other family news, "the other Carolyn" has produced a wonderful (according to Mom) retrospective program on the history of Ogden and the old Fox Egyptian theater. I didn't know she was involved in that sort of thing. Our Swiss friends Yvonne and Attila have a new granddaughter.

A couple of weeks ago in church, while the Stake Presidenty was visiting, we heard a a message on hope which stuck with me. Neal A. Maxwell in 1994:

. . . In the geometry of restored theology, hope has a greater circumference than faith. If faith increases, the perimeter of hope stretches correspondingly.

Just as doubt, despair, and desensitization go together, so do faith, hope, and charity. The latter, however, must be carefully and constantly nurtured, whereas despair, like dandelions, needs so little encouragement to sprout and spread. Despair comes so naturally to the natural man!

And again in 1998, during the time he was undergoing treatments for cancer:

Life’s disappointments often represent the debris of our failed, proximate hopes. Instead, however, I speak of the crucial need for ultimate hope.

Ultimate hope is a different matter. It is tied to Jesus and the blessings of the great Atonement, blessings resulting in the universal Resurrection and the precious opportunity provided thereby for us to practice emancipating repentance, making possible what the scriptures call “a perfect brightness of hope”

This week, we heard a message from the scriptures reminding us that sometimes we must be willing to leave behind some material things (and by analogy, misplaced emotional attachments, assumptions about the future and false hopes) in order to save our emotional, temporal and/or spiritual lives, We also had a great reminder that sometimes we should try prayers during which we only express thanks. Gratitude may be the antidote to grumpiness.

Good things to remember right now - a correct perspective on hope, with an emphasis on patience, and gratitude.

The weather has been fairly moderate for July here. I'm putting up some new tomato information and recipes, some with short cooking lessons, here.

There are posts on the 4th of July plus a week here and the "Glorious Revolution" more than 300 years ago in England here, if you're interested.

I discovered today which dog had been chewing the cord to the vacuum cleaner into short chunks. It's Maggie. She was scolded, given a lecture by David, then re-directed. So far, no recividism. Old Dottie today got some extra love for being such a perfect embodiment of patient hope - sitting quietly, looking up into my eyes with a steady gaze, waiting to be petted. Endearing.

Silence or Sound

One of our friends decided to set aside a "Silent Saturday" as a devotional exercise aimed at helping her focus on God and on the present (rather than the past or future). She reported that it was a great success.

After she announced that she was preparing for this special day, I ran across a post by a Catholic blogger called, "The Sounds of Silence." This got me thinking about whether there were some types of music which had an effect on us which was similar in some respects to the effects of purposeful silence.

She wrote about, and linked, three pieces of music which broke her heart - good for times when we need a good cry. The first was Mozart's Ave verum corpus. The video follows the score. I was surprised that I could anticipate both the Soprano and Alto parts. Like I had sung it before. Maybe I have. But not in Latin. The second on her list is Ave Maria. This one is beautiful, but probably means more to the average observant Catholic than to me. The third I linked in an update to my Memorial Day post. There's another moving video at the end of this post. Can some music help us resolve our feelings about the past and help move us into the present with more awareness?

In addition to music which makes me weep, I have sometimes had a feeling of intense absorption in the present when practicing certain pieces by Beethoven and a few other composers. I imagine that someone practicing this Bach cello prelude could have a similar intense feeling of being involved in the music. But listening to it reminds me of math and logic somehow. In a very good way.

It has an entirely different effect on me than the achingly beautiful Arioso. I remember as a small child sitting under the piano and becoming absorbed in the music as my mother played this piece on the cello. I later accompanied her, and it continued to have the same effect on me. Another Bach piece which also sometimes brings me to tears (maybe of gratitude - certainly not of sadness) is Air on the G String. This piece has apparently had a lot of influence on other composers. But analysis takes away a little of its magic for me.

A lesser-known cello piece in which I became absorbed as a child is Nina, The melody is very old. We thought was written by Pergolesi, but it is now attributed to Ciampi. I didn't know when I was a little girl that originally, this was a song. The singer becomes a painter singing to his model, who has been sleeping, perhaps for 3 days.

There is other music which is wonderful, but which can have a more distracting quality. Like this interesting guitar/cello duo. It reminds me of many jazz violin pieces. Has its over-ambitious moments, but I think Jeanine would find it interesting. Probably one of the more unusual musical duos in Bozeman, Montana.

I think that there are times for silence, but also times when carefully selected music can help us focus on the present. And there are times when it's nice to have music which is a little more distracting. But most of us distract ourselves too much from the present moment with music, talk, etc.

I remember being surprised as a pre-teen at how much better I felt about housework when I was listening to the Norman Luboff Choir (men only) singing "Songs of the Sea" (sample !16, "Homeward Bound") and other work songs. But often we work to music or talk (on TV, radio, etc.) which was not invented as an accompaniment to work. It may tend to take us out of the present moment. And our friend reports that during her Silent Saturday, cleaning gave he a feeling of being closer to God. I don't think the Norman Luboff Choir did that for me. And some of the songs certainly didn't.

One person commenting on her post said that she had a hard time finding moments of silence even on the Sabbath. That reminded me of the careful preparations for the Sabbath in traditional Jewish communities. Dennis Prager has described feelings of being completely removed from the cares of the world during the Sabbath and focused on God and the people around him. Maybe we need to do more preparation for these special days.

I once read, then lost, a book by a man who went from being an agnostic academic type to being the president of the London Temple. Don't even remember his name. But he emphasized that we should strive to make our experiences in life genuine (and this was before video games became a big thing). He suggested that if we were listening to music, preferably live, we should give it our full attention. If we were eating, we should give that our full attention, etc. I believe that he connected this type of focus with gratitude. And with making the best choices about how to spend our time.

There are so many things in our world today which can absorb our attention. It's wonderful to remember to be silent from time to time so we can just experience life, observe and listen. And even to plan for times of silence, as our friend did. I'm also going to focus on "staying the present" more often. This may require a few adjustments in my thinking.

Valentine Hearts

It's Valentine's Day. David gave me lovely gifts in anticipation a couple of days ago, one a big red heart. But I've got a blue heart this morning, and so has he. I am disheartened with bureaucracy and government at the moment. On a better note, here's how Johnny Cash and Louis Armstrong handled the Blues. They say that playing Blues and similar melancholy music, then gradually brightening the mood of the music, can help lift your mood. Maybe I'll try it.

Update: O.K. Try these in sequence for mood-lifting: How Deep is the Ocean, My Funny Valentine and Side by Side.

Valentine's Day Thought from Wretchard:

“The day will come when, after harnessing space, the winds, the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And, on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.”

Below, a sweet and schmaltzy poem from the comments. It's the thought that counts. Truly.

Daughters are special. Having a daughter makes a man feel like he accomplished something. I wrote this for my daughter a few Valentine’s Days ago, and offer it here to all Belmont Clubbers fortunate enough to be fathers of daughters.

TO MY DAUGHTER, ON SAINT VALENTINE’S DAY
The dawning paints the night sky pink

With rose and amber hue

To look at it I have to think

The morning loves you too.


The rising sun climbs in the sky

Too bright for us to view

Another reason I know why

The noontime loves you too.


As sunset draws the curtain low

And sky turns dusk from blue

I ken full well that this I know

The evening loves you too.


And as I trundle off to bed

I think always of you

And count the thousand times I’ve said

Your father loves you too.

Happy Saint Valentine’s Day

Walt Erickson

Thanks, Walt, for being a loving Dad. From a daughter who misses her own Dad.

The waiting may be almost over. Gratitude in order.

We just heard that David's Dad is awake and responding, with no breathing tube, after 10 days in which he was kept in a coma-like state most of the time. After prior complications like swelling in his throat, we were grateful to hear about the success tonight. We are also grateful for the ICU nurses and doctors.

The medical team had first tried to remove the tube for the ventilator while he was awake, then while he was asleep, This time, the medical team switched to a different tube which was not hooked to the ventilator, to allow him to start breathing on his own. He had previously become agitated and combative when he heard the voices of family members, so we were asked to stay away while they woke him up this time. He may have been reacting to difficulty breathing. We believe that we may get to see him tomorrow.

The music I linked when this wait began led to other videos suitable for a time of reflection. Here's another of those beautiful Respeghi "ancient airs and dances" and a piece by Gluck that my Mom plays on the cello. Sometimes I accompany her. I think it must be the "minuet" from Dance of the Blessed Spirits. And what do you know: here's an old recording of Rachmaninov playing another part of Gluck's work. My Dad once heard Rachmaninov in concert at the Salt Lake Tabernacle (renowned for its acoustics, but with uncomfortable seats). Rachmaninov's performance was very theatrical. He entered dramatically in a flowing cape. During one piece, a train could be heard from a few blocks away. Rachmaninov lifted his hands from the keyboard and waited for the train, then signaled the conductor to begin the piece again.

Each video seems to lead to another interesting one. I learned to play la fille aux cheveux de lin on the piano. Mrs. Hayes, my piano teacher, went to a great deal of trouble to track down the music. The sheet music came from France and the paper was very fragile. Here the piece is arranged for violin and piano, with some pretty amazing double stops at the end by Jascha Heifetz.

Beautiful music for a day of waiting

My father-in-law's open heart surgery is today. The surgery is expected to take six hours. He has had a blessing and is confident that whatever happens will be according to God's plan.

Here's some light and joyful music from a time when open-heart surgery was not possible, and when people were presented with frequent reminders of the fragility of life - even young life.

Update: The surgery went well - about 6 1/2 hours. David stayed at the hospital with his Mom and brother until the surgery was completed. We returned with his Mom in the evening, but the timing was not very good. Dad was agitated and when he heard his wife's voice. When a patient is just coming out of anesthesia in ICU and has a breathing tube, it is apparently sometimes preferable for him not to be presented with the possibility of trying to communicate with loved ones. It's time when he needs rest.

The nurse says Dad should be able to communicate tomorrow.

Brother Large

Yesterday, Brother Smith brought Brother Large with him to speak at church. Brother Large is 84 years old and 5'4". But, as he says, he could be 5'1", so he is "large". He has a large heart, anyway. And he is in good shape.

When I started playing the prelude music, he came over and stood by me, watching my hands in fascination, as if it were a miracle that I could play the organ. And I guess it really is, when you think about it: all those parts of the body and mind working together. It was no concert performance. I wasn't even using foot pedals.
or natural pipes. Still, it reminded me to be grateful for the marvelous abilities that we have as human beings.

He spoke on the theme, "Behold, what I the Lord have done". More miracles.

Brother Smith reminded us of ways we should be thinking about others as Christmas approaches, and repeated a famous quotation which I need to remember:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That's why they call it THE PRESENT.
- Eleanor Roosevelt

(emphasis Brother Smith's)

After our meetings were over, Brother Large gave all the women who were sitting in the room a brotherly kiss on the forehead. We all appreciated this little token of brotherly love on the Sunday before Christmas.

Christmas Eve Update: speaking of marvelous abililities . . .

Looking Forward to Christmas

After Sister Cox spoke about Thanksgiving on November 30, Brother Cox spoke about looking forward to Christmas. He described a simple notebook his father had made with scriptures to be read daily as Christmas approached. Something like the Catholic tradition of Advent, but designed for his own family. I think this is a fine way to transition from Thanksgiving to Christmas.

Here's an explanation of Advent for non-Catholics by The Anchoress. Some of the ritual aspects of a Catholic Advent don't do much for me, but you don't have to be Catholic to appreciate and adopt some of the ideas behind Advent:

"A star is shining brightly.
A people are moving toward the places from whence they came.
A young woman is great with child.
Wise men are lifting their eyes to heaven, and wondering.

The place of our own origin, from whence we came, beckons
and sends a flare, and One who is All in All will come - in love,
and breathtaking humility - to show us the way back to the Creator.
We are great with expectation.
We raise our heads from the wilderness of our lives, and look about,
and wonder. And hope."

In a later post, she says, "If everyone would just sit down and watch this video of Cecilia Bartoli’s super-human vocal virtuosity…we would all be humbled and awestruck at what God has created in human beings…and there would be no war, because we would all understand that we have within us something divine - a spark. In Bartoli’s case, perhaps a Roman Candle!"

That's sort of how I think about Bach's mind when I hear this performance of Sleepers Awake, written, like most of Bach's music, "to the glory of God".

Wachet auf! ruft uns die Stimme
der Wachter sehr hoch auf der Zinne.
Wach auf, du Stadt Jerusalem.

Wake, awake, for night is flying,
The watchmen on the heights are crying.
Awake, Jerusalem, arise.

Echoes of Thanksgiving

Sometimes, it is hard for me to let go of Thanksgiving, a holiday which I think we sometimes put aside too quickly. Maybe it's O.K. to take some of the spirit of Thanksgiving into the Christmas season.

On November 30, Sister Cox talked in church about the Pilgrims and their thankful attitude for blessings small and great - from 5 kernels of corn per day per person during the first winter to greater bounty later on. Her talk reminded me of something The Anchoress (a Catholic blogger) said about Thanksgiving:

". . . it is the humble, ordinary things - the things we take for granted, that give us mobility, opportunity, self-sufficiency, expression - we rarely think to be grateful for those things.

I realized once, while at prayer, that real joy and contentment in life is not possible - cannot be possible - without real gratitude. Unless you really KNOW what you have, how can you appreciate it, and if you do not appreciate your life how can you be joyful?

I used to volunteer at a local hospital, visiting patients, seeing what they needed, praying with them if they wanted that, and I ended up working particularly with those coming back from brain injuries. One day I realized…I can dress myself, I can feed myself. I can stir my cup of coffee and raise it to my lips, all by myself. My hand does not shake; I do not need someone to raise the cup for me, or slip a straw into it. I do not need anyone to wipe my lips for me.

I do not have to wait for someone to come to me and guess my need, before my thirst is quenched.

It was a revelation to me, to consider how ungrateful I had been for those things. They are not little things. They are everything, as any of the patients I had visited would have told me.

There is much to be grateful for, in every life - even in those lives which we think of as “lacking” in quality - if one person loves us or treats us with kindness and dignity, we are blessed.

I thank my God for all good things, and even for the things and circumstances that do not always immediately seem to fall into the category of 'good.' I trust. I hope. I believe. I thank."

Thanksgiving to Christmas music:

The surprising history of the hymn, We Gather Together. More on this hymn and Dutch history and religious freedom.

Here's a simple, contemporary version of Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing. Different from the full choir and orchestra version we've come to love.

Music for Thanksgiving

Jammin' down on the farm: Sweet Georgia Brown and Bye Bye Blues with Tractor Accompaniment.

Old-time Fiddling with tractor accompaniment.

And Tractor Square dancing.

When your tired of thinking about farmwork, musical dreams for engineers and mechanics.