Daze&Quirks

Sept. 29

Book completed: "The Cement Garden," by Ian McEwan – two ironies at work here. First: The children's response to their mother's death reflects a desire to, literally, preserve the ideal of their family dynamic -- when, in fact, their individual and collective roles bend, warp and evolve. Second: The book could be seen as McEwan's twist on the penchant in many societies, especially ours, to make the family the repository for all tasks and responsibilities (from education to worship to discipline) involved in maintaining, or improving, the quality of life in that society.

Sept. 27-28

Attended the "curriculum night" sessions at the kids' respective schools, navigating through the halls and, amongst clusters of dazed parents, to sit for about 10 minutes and hear the teachers explain what they intend to impart to the young ladies and men. I find myself easily distracted at such events, more interested in the classroom décor and what's on the bookshelves. The cynic in me, of course, would proclaim I'm doing myself a favor.

Sept. 26

Recent musical acquisitions:
Matt Molloy, Paul Brady and Tommy Peoples and "Singing Men of Ulster: Traditional Songs from Northern Ireland" -- I'm combining these into one entry because they both stand, in their own way, as historical recordings. "Singing Men," of course, has the classic traditional singers (Packie Byrne, Paddy Tunney) and the classic songs ("Molly Bawn," "The Rambling Boys of Pleasure"). Molloy, Brady and Peoples, meanwhile, represent three of the finer exponents of the '70s Irish music revival, and this album ably presents their talents.

Sept. 25

Book completed: "Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha," by Roddy Doyle -- astonishly authentic recreation of not only the childhood narrative voice, but the childhood thought process, impression following impulse following scrap of memory. What makes it effective is Paddy's gradual, poignant awareness of his parents and brother as complicated people he loves but cannot control, and only occasionally influence.

Sept. 23

*Day-long tour of Harvard, Mass., with Red Herring and a few other morris teams, OD along for good measure (and for baby-sitting fellow dancers' kids). Low numbers limited us mostly to four-person dances, but with lovely early fall weather and the morris brand of camaraderie, it would've been hard work not to have fun. Even ventured a go on concertina at one stand for performance of "Seaside Shuffle."
*On the way home, listening to what she considers "old" songs (i.e., released within last couple of years) on local Top 40 radio station, OD avers that "there hasn't been a lot of creativity so far this decade."

Sept. 22

Flush with victory in the community center's 6th grade lip-synching contest, YD reports during the car ride home that she had danced with a partisan of the male gender. And adds that, "I'm probably going to have a boyfriend this year." Discussion of what exactly "boyfriend" means, in emotional and practical terms, to follow at a somewhat later date.

Sept. 19

Recent musical acquisitions:
*Sharon Shannon, "Out the Gap" -- the musicianship is laudatory, but this is just a fun album, period. What's important, though, is that the use of horn sections, reggae backbeats and the like transcend the novelty quotient. Innovation, in this case, augments tradition.
*Relativity, "Gathering Pace" -- not as tentative as their first one seemed, with good application of keyboards and synths in particular -- liked the Highland drums in "The Hogtie Reel" as well. The vocal numbers are a bit lush and overproduced for my tastes, but praise on high for Triona Ni Dhomhnaill's clavinet-playing, which -- as always -- weaves brilliantly through the melody and rhythm.

Sept. 18

Probably the best story I've seen come out of the Olympics: a swimmer from Equatorial Guinea -- never having had a coach or an Olympic-sized pool in which to practice -- receives an invitation to Sydney by, literally, the luck of the draw; the only other two swimmers in his heat are disqualified, leaving him to go it alone; he barely is able to finish the race, and when he does, he's a full minute behind the leader and is thus eliminated. Crowd goes wild, nonetheless. An instructive reminder that, while the US may not put the resources other countries might into developing their Olympians, there are plenty of others far worse off.

Sept. 17

*The Red Herring Morris Annual General Meeting convenes, at which I volunteer for the job of "practice heavy" -- a role I hope to define and, if possible, enjoy. Meeting later takes on a somewhat PG-13 character, having relocated to our host's hot tub; but no, it was all strictly business.
*Well, this is nice: Three weeks into the NFL season, and my favored franchises are a combined 0-5. Here's hoping BC has an especially good season.

Sept. 13

A happy reunion with Banbury Cross Morris, of which I was once co-squire and general roadie and hanger-on. OD is now one of the older, if not the oldest, on the team; quite a change from her first year, when she was a full head and shoulders below her fellow dancers.

Sept. 12

Viewing: "The Cement Garden" -- in the interests of disclosure: Owing to either a bad copy or our TV's audio limitations, I had a hard time hearing much of the dialogue. But the film is less about words, more about atmosphere and environment, of sullen teenage posturing and brinkmanship. On that scale, Andrew Robertson (as surely one of the more exasperating teens depicted in contemporary film) and Charlotte Gainsbourg do quite well, as does the grim concrete pillbox of a house in which they live. But the character of Derek, the interloper whose threatening of the fragile family dynamic helps set in motion the literal and figurative climax, does not seem fully fleshed out. By the end, you truly feel as if you need to come up for air.

Sept. 11

Recent musical acquisition: Connie Dover, "Somebody" -- not sure why exactly she appears not to be as well-known as other Gaelic/Celtic chanteuses, like Niamh Parsons, but Dover certainly deserves notice for choice and arrangement of material -- and there are not many vocalists I know of who compose pieces for others to perform on her album. Highlights are "O'er the Hills and Far Away," with judicious use of pipes and drums, and a heartbreaking rendition of "Rosemary's Sister," Huw Warren's tale of war-time civilian tragedy and how it echoes years later.

Sept. 10

OD's invitation to join camp friend at her home in Carlisle affords opportunity to travel countryside, bathed in glorious late-summer sunlight. By my lights, this is the kind of thing you actually conserve gas for.

Sept. 9

Viewing: "American Movie" -- having forgotten the details about this film, it wasn't until about a third of the way through that I realized it was not another "Spinal Tap"/"Waiting for Guffman" mockumentary. You can't help laugh, at first, at Mark Bouchardt's pretensions to filmmaking, or the collection of family and friends who act as muses, benefactors or protagonists. But gradually, you find something moving about them all, especially in Bouchardt's relationship with his aged uncle, whose various murmured asides and non-sequitors lend an almost heart-breaking kind of dignity to the proceedings.

Sept. 8

Recent dream: Dubya Bush is speaking at some kind of public event, standing in the midst of a crowd. He starts getting heckled and at one point, I chime in with a sarcastic "Yeah, that's really staying on message!," which provokes a "Sssshh!" from one of his handlers. All of a sudden, I notice he's about to get pelted with eggs, so I lunge to cover him. Now, what's puzzling is not just that I'd go out of my way to to attend an appearance by Dubya, or that I'd protect him against a fusilade of dairy products; it's that I would actually use the phrase "on message."

Sept. 7

No welcoming bell ringing in the distance, but off on another school-year we go -- LW and I with hopeful hearts but wary eyes. OD, as she is attending a different middle school, will for the nonce accompany me for the first part of my morning commute. Shay, meanwhile, appears to have settled right into middle school, having made three new friends on the first day alone. Like I said, hopeful hearts…

Sept. 5

Viewings:
*"American Beauty" -- a mobius strip of comedy, dramatic tension and tragedy. Scenes like Kevin Spacey's would-be confrontation with his ex-Marine neighbor, or the irony of the virgin-whore dichotomy as embodied by Mena Suvari's Angela, are enough to make one laugh and shudder simultaneously. Hope you die before you get old?
*"Trekkies" -- on the one hand, a subject like this would appear to be a slam-dunk -- train the camera on a Trek convention and let the silly people do their thing. But it's certainly possible to do it well, and that's the case here. You can laugh at the notion of "Sesame Street" sung in Klingonese, or a Trek-themed dental office, or (ulp) fan-written Kirk-Spock sex stories. But there's poignancy, too, to be found in the real-life inspiration for the Geordie LaForge character, or the teen-age kid whose adult-like vocabulary and passion for Trek-related activity almost makes you wish he'd sneak a cigarette sometime, or an Iowan Trekkie's plaintive description of an annual event which would appear to draw little else but similarily unattached males.

Weekend of Labors

Well, household-related labors, anyway. Mundane, but satisfying, especially with an Oysterband tape playing in the background. Not a lot else to this "Farewell, Summer" weekend, really, although I did take a couple of separate errands/browsing-type trips with each kid.
*Book completed: "Adlai Stevenson: His Life and Legacy" -- an election-year balm, this. Stevenson was, in many ways, just out of synch with the political mainstream: his progressive ideas, his plainspokenness and his penchant for earnest reflection. But although these came to be viewed more as attributes than liabilities, he also seemed to lack just enough of the qualities -- yes, even the less positive ones, that necessitate holding one's nose -- that perhaps would've changed the outcome of his career…although, it must be said, not necessarily for the better. His personal life was fascinatingly contemporary, too: a marriage ended by his wife's deteriorating mental condition, he becomes a courtly bachelor who, although not exactly glamorous or buff, nevertheless draws actresses, businesswomen and millionairesses alike.

Sept. 1

*Book completed: "Cold Mountain," by Charles Frasier -- it's not just the characters who make this more than worthwhile reading, especially Inman, who is equally capable of tenderness and compassion yet also a cold-blooded, matter-of-fact ability to kill. The detail in describing the flora and fauna of the Smokey Mountains, as well as the way people ate, dressed and lived in mid-19th century, suggests Frasier either has anthropologist blood in him or knows one damn well. Highlight: The chapter describing the creation of a new kind of fiddle music, what in some circles might be accurately yet insufficiently known as "the folk process."
*Recent musical acquisition: "Dublin to Dakar: A Celtic Odyssey" -- shrewd choice of material by Putumayo to demonstrate the sheer magnitude of possibilities Celtic music influence provides. The Alan Stivell-Youssou N'Dour duet "United Earth" and Oysterband's "Street of Dreams" are familiar by now, and deservedly so, but the revelation on this album is the Breton-flavored "Azwaw 2" -- with a compelling drum rhythm -- my introduction to Algerian singer Cheb Mami and "rai" music (an intro I've since sought to build on, I might add).

Aug. 30

This isn't truly funny, and yet…
A group of vigilantes in Britain trashed the office of a doctor because they evidently confused the word "pediatrician" with something more sinister. Guess literacy can really make a difference between life and death.

Aug. 29

It doesn't really feel like 13 years. Or does it? But when you're married to such a treasure as I am, time has little or no meaning. What does have meaning is the love I have for this woman.
Our celebration was basic, and very enjoyable: Chinese take-out, two bottles of Avia, and a viewing of "Polish Wedding" -- morbidly humorous, with an underlying exposition on both the futility and comfort of following one's ascribed role, in marriage and faith. And to say that Claire Danes has lively, expressive eyes is to say that Chicago often has wind.

Aug. 28

It would be most remiss of me not to mention that following Saturday night's viewing, I spent a lovely hour-and-then-some chatting with our Bulgarian neighbors. Boy, we come from such long distances.

Aug. 27

Girls and I head off for cineplex land, where we see evidence in coming attractions of the apparent dearth of fresh ideas in filmdom, i.e., "102 Dalmations," the live-action "Grinch" and "The Little Vampire," which seems like a Terry Pratchett concept gone terribly wrong. Our main purpose, though, was to see
"Chicken Run" -- bless Nick Park. If nothing else, maybe he'll create a wellspring of appreciation for Yorkshire accents. The references to WWII/Deep South prison camp movies abound, but don't overload the story's sinister element anymore than it needs to be. The pseudo-philosophical debate at the very end is a perfect, and perfectly absurd capper.

Aug. 26

*How unsummery a summer has it been? My outing with OD to local water recreation paradise was my first and, since the place was closing this weekend, my last. That, plus my one swim at our other usual aquatic haunt, means I did not take full advantage of my summer family pass.
*More unreality: A national study concludes that, based on deaths per X amount of drivers, Massachusetts is actually the safest state in which to operate a motor vehicle. Well, fine, but that doesn't mean you're getting me to Newton Corner or Route 128 on weekday mornings.
*Viewing: "Run of the Country" -- promising at first, with its occasionally quirky glances at life in '90s rural Ireland; Roddy Doyle goes to the countryside, perhaps? But then the story is subverted to the central Forbidden Love plot, as well as the (frankly) unnecessary IRA sub-plot. And while Albert Finney does fine as the tough-lovin' cop dad, was there really no Irish actor available for the part?

Aug. 23

Recent musical acquisitions:
*Grey Larson and Andre Marchand, "The Orange Tree" -- spare, lovely French-Canadian music filtered through Grey Larson's contemporary American-Celtic sensibility. The first track, with Larson's flute playing off -- and around -- Marchand's Acadian mouth-music, is a thing of beauty.
*The Dixie Chicks, "Wide Open Spaces" -- OK, generous dollop of Hype-B-Gone needed here. It's simply this: sound choice and arrangement of material, fine musicianship, and vocal harmonies to die for work, period. And a little tribute to Bonnie Raitt doesn't hurt, either.

Aug. 22

Now here's devotion to routine: Across the street from my midpoint-of-commute bus stop, I have observed on most every day for the past few years an elderly gentleman on his morning constitutional. He not only passes by at practically the exact same time each day, he pauses to rest at the exact same spot -- about eight or nine feet from the end -- on the stone wall bordering the sidewalk, and for about the same exact interval.

Aug. 21

Viewing: "Kicking and Screaming" -- zippy, pungent dialogue and ensemble acting elevates this beyond a "St. Elmo's Fire for the '90s" tag, and then the air seems to drain out for the last half-hour or so. Before that happens, however, there is much to take delight in, such as Christopher Eigman and his NPR commentator's voice, Parker Posey and her exquisitely sculpted face, and Carlos Jacott, who suggests a socially awkward and phobia-laden Kevin Bacon.

Aug. 17

Excursion to Six Flags New England, which proves quite enjoyable for all the waiting and rather high count of unavailable rides and other amusements. Personal highlight: Riding "Thunderbolt," a more traditional, wooden roller-coaster, blissfully free of the overly-steep drops and twisty-turns of its successors -- and more than enough in the thrills and just-plain-fun departments, thank you.

Aug. 16

*YD appears to be avidly reading copies of big sister's Seventeen. I'm not sure why, and neither am I certain why this worries me.
*Fair's fair. If the Smithsonian Museum is going to honor the paint-by-numbers kit as a symbol of Americana, shouldn't the "Draw this horse, win a free art school scholarship" ads deserve consideration?

One More Long Summer Weekend

Long-awaited intensive cleaning effort pays off handsomely, as we reclaim something on the order of 25 percent more space in the front room, as well as a modicum of proprietorial pride. And just in time for OD's sleepover, which is one of the most unobtrusive on record, and enables us to view:
*"Angela's Ashes" -- for my money, one of the better literary adaptations in modern film. Emily Watson and Robert Carlyle effectively capture the maddening contradictions of Frank McCourt's parents, and there are some fine set pieces -- Frank's unsuccessful stint at Irish dancing, for example, or even just a brief montage of him running through the rain while telling stories to his younger brother.
Saturday is spent mainly frolicking with sisters-in-law wee niece, who at 15 months is seemingly at the zenith of cuteness and adorableness. The next morning, OD heads off with the trio for her own rendition of "Travels with my aunt(s)," leaving the missus and I to indulge in a Day of Indolence.
This sloth was due to end late Sunday with the return of YD from Virginia, but bad weather postponed her restoration to our household 'til the next day. And so, she happily arrived, with small toad in tow, and much the richer for her solo venture.

Aug. 8

Book completed: "An Obedient Father," by Akhil Sharma -- Fascinating interweaving of personal and political corruption (the former far more devastating and disturbing) in India. The narrative shifts are a little jarring, but the cruel irony in the family's resolution of its scandal is disturbingly, symmetrically perfect.

Aug. 1-7: Home Stretch

And into the final round of summer we go, a generally quiet week spent reading, relaxing and giving the Taurus an opportunity to earn our trust, following its disastrous debut as family car in late June. Thus, a couple of day trips:
*Walden Pond, with OD and schoolchum in tow, on a most pleasant afternoon that afforded me the opportunity to read the Boston Sunday Globe and Cold Mountain. No, I didn't really feel like swimming, myself.
*Blackstone Valley, again with OD, to look at some old professional haunts -- i.e., the weekly newspaper in Northbridge (southern Worcester County) where I worked after graduating college. Found the paper moved into new, much smaller, and frankly less distinctive quarters, mirroring what appears to be a general scaling-down in operations and coverage. Makes me think that my compatriots and I really worked in the good old days. Other impressions: More economically revitalized main streets, although with rather more chain franchises than I recall (with the pleasant exceptions like Peg's Diner in Whitinsville or The Goodness Store in Douglas). The Blackstone Valley Chamber of Commerce also has lent a hand, posting little banners here and there proclaiming the town's name and historical character (e.g., "Uxbridge: A Mill Town").
During this interim, YD departed for a week's visit in Virginia with my father-in-law, boarding a solo flight to Washington with little evident anxiety.

July 28-31: County Fare

So, OD and I hopped a Greyhound to Claverack, encountering a weekend of dull, coolish, humid intermittent rainfall.
*The first morning, we were (all right, I was) roused by the huff-puffing of a young buck feasting on bushes near the driveway. That afternoon, we went off to the Hudson Valley Raptor Center, where during a demonstration we sat within 10 feet of a rather agitated, but thankfully tethered, harris hawk. You come away, basically, with a new-found appreciation for the thoroughness of nature: how a raptor is able to spot its prey from the air by using ultraviolet vision to detect the animal's trail of urine; or how, from above we humans see the ground as patterns formed by fields and farms, whereas an eagle or falcon will "see rabbits," as our guide explained.
*That night, we saw an engaging, lively performance of "Midsummer Night's Dream" by an international company of high school and college-age kids. My appreciation for Shakespeare as contributor to civilization 'n art has regularly outpaced my enthusiasm for viewing his work, but I thoroughly enjoyed this, as did OD.
*Sunday, we journeyed to the Dutchess County Fairgrounds to visit our friends who were preparing for an annual Holstein show. Families and hired hands hovering around semi-enclosed barns, grooming, cleaning and feeding their charges or exchanging small talk and anecdotes. Kids relaxing with a book or personal stereo, with a large, live bovine pillow supporting them, or trying to put a calf through its paces. Mingled smells of hay, feed, disinfectant, leather and, yes, end-products. Something very comforting about it all.
*At one point, as we sat discussing something-or-other with Mom, she received a call from her dear friend, a Somalian nowing now living in London who, she swears, saved her life in Mogadishu. Sobering to realize his recently-born son -- the reason why he called -- may never be able to visit his parents' native land.

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