Daze&Quirks

May 31

Invitation to Banbury Cross end-of-year dinner party appears to seriously reawaken OD's interest in joining them again, if primarily for the social aspect -- which, after all, is hardly an insubstantial attraction for any morris dancer. Besides coming away with some new-found friends, we also took a few photos of the May 21 Red Herring-Banbury dance-out in Boston Common.

May 30

Viewing: "So I Married An Axe Murderer" -- Mike Myers' Stuart McKenzie would have made a more compelling lead character than Mike Myers' Charlie McKenzie. Amanda Plummer's presence in the film pretty much telegraphed the ending. But any movie that pays tribute to Scottish culture, however sarcastically, can't be all bad.

MemDayWeekend

Glimpses, tableaux and what-not from two days in old upstate New York stomping grounds:
*OD climbing in the tree on the north side of the house, pausing, sighing contentedly and saying "When I'm here, nothing else seems to matter."
*An early evening campfire (yes, with hot dogs and 'smores) out in the pasture, with the kids paying tribute to various absent or departed family, friends and pets by tossing petals into the nascent flames.
*Looking at photos of Mom's time in Northern Iraq, which depict recreational outings to huge caves, traditional Kurdish dancing done not only in native costume but in suits and ties, and picnics with an armed guard.
*Visiting the dairy farm of family friends; strolling down the back road with turkey buzzards circling above; OD and YD laughing at the sensation of cows' tongues; enjoying the company of our friends' daughter, a neophyte cow expert at 12; OD, frolicking with a pair of young pigs, wondering out loud how one can play with animals that later wind up on one's dinner table.
*Beatles sing-alongs there and back.

May 20-21

Last morris dance weekend of the season, with a morning stand on Saturday between Upper and Lower Mystic lakes that afforded the opportunity to watch cormorants and have some relaxed conversation. The next day was a somewhat scaled-down dance-out with the irrepressible Banbury Cross on Boston Common, climaxing at the site of a just-completed liturgy for the homeless -- one of whom showed himself to be an inveterate Monty Python fan (to the point of carrying around several of their CD).
So, Year 1 of Red Herring is done. I'll miss those Thursday nights.
The weekend also included a viewing of "GalaxyQuest," which is so sweet-souled and affectionate you don't realize that the quotient of belly laughs is less than expected -- but you don't mind, either. Tim Allen and Sigourney Weaver get the attention, but Tony Shalhoub's hilariously bland "tech officer" deserves notice.

May 16

Book completed: "Carpe Jugulum," by Terry Pratchett -- took me a while to warm up to this one, what with all the scene-setting and character establishment over the first chapter or so. But once everything was in place, a great read: Pratchett injects some quite droll near-Pirandellian irony in his musings about old customs and traditions.

May 13-14

Double shot of morris dancing, first the Red Herring Morris "Day of Dance 2000" in cool, cloudy Salem. To our collective surprise and delight, my old team Middlesex managed a resurrection for the event, enabling us to manage a few entries from the past repertoire -- including the ever-dangerous "Fireworks." A brief stand at chilly Nahant Long Beach, and then a relaxing and congenial dinner party.
Next day, Lilac Sunday, is sunny and gorgeous, and YD and I spend the day at the Arnold Arboretum for the annual gathering of the morris clans. We Red Herrings do a morning stand with Banbury Cross and Jack in the Green, and manage two full sides for my current favorite dance, "Seaside Shuffle." As always, plenty of talent out there, but perhaps the highlight of the day was Orion's performance of a long sword dance to a guitar-and-sax rendition of "Take Five" (and the dance is in 5/8 time, so you get the idea).
And I take home a farmer's tan and achy knees and shins.

May 12

Wondrous strange, and just strange, from the World of Sport:
*Florida Marlins, in tight game with Atlanta, insert a 37-year-old rookie relief pitcher with the delightfully retro name of Joe Strong�who promptly pitches 1-1/3 hitless innings.
*Free agent-to-be Indiana Pacers guard Jalen Rose would appear to have a fervent suitor -- Detroit -- for his services next year. But Rose notes that any success he's ever enjoyed in basketball, from high school to pro, has come with teams whose colors are blue and gold, and implied that this circumstance would inform his choice of franchise.

May 6-7

As wildly improbable heat wave descends, I dance out with Red Herring at Somerville Garden Day and, following lunch, in slightly more informal fashion around Davis Square. The evening is taken up with family viewings of "Little Shop of Horrors" (musical version) and "Jaws," the latter of which is found to be emphatically not scary, claim the kids. Next day, a robust and satisfying bit of house and yardwork.

May 5

Out of a fatal combination of exhaustion, boredom and inertia, we catch part of a network TV "bloopers" show, hosted by "Cheech" Marin. Balding, clean-shaven and dressed in a suit likely costing the equivalent of three weeks of groceries. Something sad about it, somehow. I just remember when channeling Cheech and Chong routines in high school was on the status scale somewhere between scoring the winning touchdown and TP-ing the principal's house (neither of which I did, by the way).

May 1

May Day is thankfully clear, if chilly, and so I am able to join Red Herring Morris to welcome in the summer, to welcome in the May-O.
While on the banks of the Charles, I make acquaintance with none other than the father mentioned in the April 25 entry. Turns out I have served as an inspiration of sorts for his literary-minded young lady, who has cast me as "The Reading Man" in a variety of ad hoc roman a clef creations: there's one, apparently, in which I fail to notice the library I'm in is about to close and wind up being imprisoned for the night. Geez, and all I did was stand at a bus stop with my nose in a book.

April 29

*Grand opening of new Boys & Girls Club around the corner creates considerable anticipation in these quarters, certainly on the part of the adults, who happily envision a slackening of "I'm bored" entreaties.
*That night, I attend this year's elementary school talent show, which ranges from painfully self-conscious pre-teen attempts to emulate MTV dance moves to petite Oriental girls flying through piano sonatas and concertos despite not being tall enough to reach the sustain pedal. Our main interest, of course, is our thespian younger daughter, who rises above the material she and her cohorts developed: a three-minute blackout sketch about a peeved janitor who is really a witch. Anyway, she had fun.

April 28

Finished watching "American Experience" film on George Wallace: moving, provocative, even unsettling (especially Pat Buchanan's assertion that Wallace would've won the presidency if he hadn't been crippled). Its power -- well, Wallace's story in general -- derives from the likely never-to-be-answered question as to whether he truly sought redemption, or a better place in history.

April 25

Some guy driving his daughter to school most every day past my bus stop has apparently gotten in the habit of looking to see which entry from The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat collection I've selected for the day. I suppose I could post a daily update here, but that might be ridiculous, even for me.

An Easter Weekend Utterly Without Sun

*Spent most of Good Friday utterly lethargic, except for brief spate of house-cleaning later in day. Sox game being rained out, I settled for a viewing of "Phantoms" -- well, Peter O'Toole offered a modicum of pedigree, and Rose McGowan sure looked cute in that pink sweater, but other than that not much to say. Next day is a family viewing of "The Russians Are Coming!," which is far more satisfying.
*Driving around on Saturday with OD, we hear on the radio about the Elian Gonzalez Raid, prompting me to offer her a brief summary of the situation and its sociopolitical implications. She pegged it immediately: "I just feel bad for the kid!" Indeed, a cruel irony: Cuba probably does not have the degree of psychotherapeutic expertise he now truly needs, and which is available here -- but not affordable.
*Looking to head off a severe case of kiddie stir-craziness induced by constant drizzle and downpour, I shuttle the girls and camcorder to woods for even more amateurish "Blair Witch" knock-off. Surprisingly fun.

April 20

YD brought home a Scotch pine seedling, apparently given out at school as a quasi-ecological or scientific promotion. My question: Is it assumed that everyone out our way has a yard large enough to accommodate a Scotch pine? If not, are we supposed to take it out to the country and abandon it, like an unwanted animal or other visitor?

April 18

Some recent musical acquisitions:
*"Pleasure," by Malcom Daglish and the OOOlites -- striking a blow for youth choruses everywhere, with intelligent selections and arrangements. Highlights: "Reel a'Bouche," "Pegasus" (which interpolates both Gaelic mouth music and a 14th-century Italian Laude), "Have Your Lamps Gone Out?," and "Sail Away."
* "Nordic Roots," various artists -- a kaleidoscope of Scandinavian music, played straight and sometimes silly (such as marrying traditional Sami yoik vocals to ambient electronics). But some gorgeous stuff from the likes of Vasen, Swap and Triakel, among others.
*"Water of Life," Sofia Singers -- doesn't hit me over the head quite as much as Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares, but I think my fondness for Eastern European vocal ensembles is not that discriminating yet.

April 15-17

*Most of the weekend is taken up with NEFFA, which I attend with both kids on Saturday and with OD and classmate on Sunday. The latter day is notable for the official debut of Red Herring Morris, which goes very well indeed (should be pictures, or links to same, shortly). Most of the two days I spend outside watching the other morris and folk/ritual dance teams, and catching up with friends and acquaintances -- with only an occasional walk-round inside to look at booths or find an occasional session. Sunday night, I am stiff and sore, but quite pleased overall.
*Monday is a day of recovery, ending with family viewing of "The Sixth Sense" -- in a way, reminiscent of "The Exorcist," morphing parental guilt about divorce's effect on children into a morality struggle played out in the supernatural arena. Fortunately, M.N. Shyamalan employs restraint and atmosphere in doing so. Our kids, meanwhile, demonstrated a budding film analysis acumen by avidly discussing the clues leading up to the final revelation (even watched it again next day to see if they'd missed any others).

April 14

Somehow, these things seem connected. Don't know how, don't know why:
*From Associated Press: "The giant Mr. Potato Head sculptures designed to bring tourists to Rhode Island also have been luring vandals. Last weekend, three men were seen hurling themselves headlong into "Hospitality Spud" outside Newport's Gateway Visitors Center, and one of the men was carrying an arm severed from the 160-pound sculpture.
"Also last week, "Mr. Potato Head Bulb", a statue commissioned by Narragansett Electric and decorated as a lightbulb, had both its arms ripped off while on display in Providence."
*From The Daily Telegraph, UK: "The hunt for Shergar, the Derby-winning racehorse killed by the IRA in a bungled kidnapping 17 years ago, may be over. DNA experts were last night examining a skull found in a remote valley near Tralee, Co Kerry. It was concealed in a sack and had two bullet holes between the eye sockets.
"Thomas Foley, who found the skull, was confident he had cracked one of Ireland's great unsolved mysteries. He said: "There is a bit of excitement about this." Mr Foley, 59, a member of Tralee urban council, made the find at the weekend while clearing a valley three miles from the town with a group of volunteers."

April 13

*Fascinating talk with Paul Bew, historian and commentator on Unionism, who's visiting the Boston area this year. Even as he researches early 19th-century Northern Irish political history, he's serving as consultant to the Bloody Sunday Tribunal and staying up nights talking with and observing politicians and negotiators for the Good Friday Agreement. One set of his experiences enriches the other.
*Shameless hankering for sports wear at bargain-basement prices takes me to the a local athletic association spring clearance sale, from which I emerge with a far snazzier baseball jersey than the one I got a couple of years ago, plus a basketball practice top, a pair of absurd sneakers and another addition for The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page. Family offers bemused, perhaps slightly manufactured praise for choices.

April 8-9

Treacherous weather forces cancellation of the planned debut of Red Herring Morris, *sigh*.Did enable me to make tech-oriented shopping excursion, and acquisition of extremely chintzy digital camera which I suspect will have to be returned.

April 7

A very pleasant way to end a week: comfortable New England spring weather, a poetry reading by Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill, with beer, pizza and congenial conversation to follow.
Later, a viewing: "Life Is Beautiful" -- can't fault the sentiment, I suppose, but somehow this one made me uncomfortable. It wasn't just the jarring difference between the film's first and second parts, but more the philosophical questions raised by the father's efforts to foster normality (or something like it) at the concentration camp: When, and how, one wonders, will the son ever confront the evil to which he and his family were subjected?

April 6

Attended memorial service for prominent Boston area faculty member, at which Seamus Heaney spoke and read a poem he had written in her memory. He was dad's friend and all, but it must be said: The intellect, the talent roll off him so easily, and yet all with a palpable, earthy humility.

April 5

Book completed: "The Caravaggio Books," by Bernard Peterson -- pretty average death-and-scandal-in-the-academy mystery, with painfully self-conscious dialogue.

March 31-April 2

Sorely-needed three-day weekend includes unscheduled viewing of "A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum" with OD's schoolchum, at loose ends after getting squeezed out of attending the school play, followed by delightful day trip to Hartford and a visit with sisters-in-law Allison and Renie and 11-month-old niece Katie -- at one point, LW and I had her all to ourselves, and relived the pleasure of moving at a baby's pace -- and then a relatively quick trip Sunday to Harvard Square to finally track down a copy of the Sports Illustrated baseball preview touting the Red Sox as the champeens-to-be (colleague points out that this year's SI swimsuit edition, by contrast, is far more easily obtainable well after its initial publication; not sure what that says about New Englanders' priorities, but says something).

March 30

Book completed: "Pillar of Fire," by Taylor Branch -- as with "Parting the Waters," intricate attention to detail in recounting conversations and exchanges, no mean feat considering the complexity of the parties involved in the mid-'60s civil rights struggles. Highlight: his chronicling of the Mississippi Democratic Freedom Party's bid to be seated at the '64 convention, a series of events that had LBJ threatening to halt his reelection bid.

March 29

Boston Globe reports that North Dakota farmers are resisting encouragement from something called the Small Grains Institute to wear more sun-resistant headgear -- and forsake their traditional baseball caps. While The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page certainly applauds the idea of sun safety, it cannot help but acknowledge this stirring devotion.

March 27

Site note: Thanks to recent acquisition of a scanner, a new color photo now adorns the main page, and some of the B&W shots in the "Your Band's Called What?" section have been replaced by similarly multi-hued images. More, as they say, to come later.

March 25-26

*Lovely weather compels me to get bike fixed (new tire and tubes). I could, and probably should, learn to do some of this by myself, but it's rather hard to ignore the lack of time and energy.
*Three full weeks now into our part-time home-schooling arrangement. Can't say it's solved everything -- wouldn't have expected that, anyway -- but does seem to have drastically reduced the pent-up, end-of-day tension.
*NCAA Tournament 2000 update: Oh, why bother. My pick for champion (Michigan St.) is still alive, but I botched just about everything else. That said, of course, the games and story-lines themselves have been perhaps the best I can recall.

March 22

From the police log at a major metropolitan educational institution:
"Housing officials reported loud screaming from an apartment in [the residence hall]. An investigation indicated that the student had been 'daytrading' and his computer shut down."

March 21

Viewing: "Dark City" -- deliver us from evil, desperate space aliens with a fondness for film noir. Stylish, visually exciting (especially when Jennifer Connelly is in view), but suffers ultimately from genre collision and overdone theme music.

March 20

NCAA Tournament 2000 update: My initial euphoria over nailing 28 of the 32 first-round winners disappears quickly, with three of my Final Four candidates falling out: Temple (yes, went with the popular choice), St. John's and Cincinnati (thought Kenyon Martin's injury could serve as a rallying point, but�). Check the archives to see if I've said this before: Good thing I'm not betting on this stuff.

March 17-19

St. Pat's weekend starts off with a flourish of flurries and cloying yet congenial sentimentality in the form of an office singalong, encompassing "Irish Eyes" et al.
My beloved's birthday passes with Chinese take-out and two viewings:
*"Dancing at Lughnasa" -- can't fault the effort, or the sincerity, and there are some wonderful scenes -- both, interestingly enough, geared around music: the sisters' singing of "The Sally Gardens," and the climactic dance scene. But it somehow feels remote, literally tucked too far away in those Donegal hills.
*"Stir of Echoes" -- add Zachary David Cope to the canon of cute little boys too attuned to the supernatural. Very effective build-up, but the pay-off feels less than satisfying. Almost redeemed, however, by the final scene, which suggests that Cope's Jake is bound either for a mental hospital or homicide unit (now there's a sequel).

March 16

Pre-St. Pat's party in the Boston College athletic facility's Zamboni Room, having a seisiun-on-display with people I've scarcely met before -- although later arriving is the truly lovely and talented Claddagh Records Fulbright Scholar harpist Padraigin Caesar and the equally lovely and talented Riverdance Fulbright Scholar Yzanne Cloonan and her dancing feet. Then it's off to morris dance practice, to subject my shins and thighs to wonderful torture.

March 12

More of the same, weather-wise, though not enough to keep me from supplementing The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page. Also, finished reading "Angela's Ashes," by Frank McCourt -- kind of a (if you will) poor man's Sean O'Casey, which is not meant as an insult. Uncomfortably astonishing detail. Highlights: McCourt and his brothers discussing the presence, or non-presence, of priests in Irish rebel songs, to the consternation of his poor, ill mother; McCourt using the Trinity metaphor to describe his father.

March 11

Chilly, damp day, the latter part of it spent consoling OD, still trying (aren't we all) to figure out friends' attitudes and motivations. A family viewing of "How Green Was My Valley" turns on the waterworks, much to her bemusement. Barry Fitzgerald's "Naw apteetude fur knowlidge," by the way, deserves to be a WAV file or something.

March 10

Viewing: "Modern Romance" -- Albert Brooks is so good at being a gently obnoxious PITA, and perhaps never more here, especially when he confronts Kathryn Harrold about her supposed infidelity. The sequences showing him as film editor are that much more effective (and funny) because his supposed eye for detail is what screws up his life in the first place.

March 7

Reflections upon hearing Madonna's version of "American Pie":
*Was it just too much trouble for her to learn the whole song?
*Did anyone try to tell her that maybe this wasn't such a great idea?
*I'm sorry, but this two-and-a-half verses business really confuses me. One minute, we're hearing the 1950s rock 'n roll lyric references, the next we've jumped all the way to the Janis Joplin allusion? Without all the business about the quartet practicing in the park, the jester on the sidelines in a cast, Satan laughing with delight? I mean, we're talking about a capsulization of almost 20 years of pop music history here. Did anyone say to Madonna, "Dude, you left out some stuff"?
*Would it be OK, then, if I did a new film adaptation of "Tale of Two Cities," and just had the part about the best and worst of times stuff, then jumped right to the ending where the guy gets his head cut off?

March 6

Spent the day immersed in the world of economics and finance, a world to which my colleague and I agreed we ought to devote at least a portion of the attention we do to Red Sox trivia. (Link here will be updated next week).

March 4

Kids and I head off to Harvard Square for our usual survey of music, fashion and trend (i.e., Oona's, Newbury Comics, Tokyo Kid). Found a few intriguing and inexpensive CDs (see list above), and we enjoyed a Beatles tribute band performing in the Brattle Street intersection. Would've stayed all the rest of the afternoon, were it not for OD's baby-sitting gig.
That evening, YD and I took along a couple of friends to watch an undermanned but plucky BC basketball team climb out of a substantial first-half hole to defeat Villanova. Shay proves to be a spirited fan, especially since we managed to insinuate ourselves on the in-house video feed dancing to "Twist and Shout."

March 3

*Into uncharted territory: We've received official clearance to do part-time home-schooling for OD, which hopefully will provide some relief from both the academic and social-related angst we've all been experiencing. Hope she understands the commitment this entails. For that matter, hope we do, too.
*Gosh, I'm tired. And sore. Hectic, not quite frenzied period at the beginning of the week. Intensive morris dancing and late-night letter-writing session at the close of the week. So, yes, I'm tired. And sore.

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