*Our first non-family Halloween: OD goes off to a friend's house for the late afternoon and evening, YD trick-or-treats around the neighborhood with a long-time chum, and I head to a very informal ceilidh at BC, where I play guitar for our man Seamus and a student as they provide music for stepdancers-in-training.
*Possibly the first "Night of the Living Dead" reference ever given here: The actress who played the charming little flesh-eatin', parent-killin' girl now has her very own Web site, which includes photos of tattoos of her likeness people have seen fit to have inscribed upon their skin.
Oct. 28
Recent musical acquisition: "Voices: A collection of vocalists on Hannibal Records" -- yes, yes, it was a bargain bin pick-up, but Hannibal does put out some nifty stuff. A goodly sprinkling of mostly acoustic-based folk and ethnic material, including splendid Balkan numbers by Vuljicsics, Trio Bulgarka and the Ivo Papasa Orchestra, engaging contemporary songs by Blackgirls and Shopping Trolley, and "old familiars" like June Tabor, Nick Drake, Fotheringay and Muzsikas.
Oct. 27
Recalling my semi-halcyon days as a sports reporter, I head up to a North Shore high school, where I interview a sports broadcaster at a small AM station (preliminary step for a potential free-lance article). Having driven all that way, of course, I wasn't about to turn right around just yet, so I stayed to watch the game. Not exactly Ohio St.-Michigan, or even Harvard-Yale, but at least somewhat redeemed by the setting -- the stadium looked out over a large open meadow, flocks of geese flying overhead.
Oct. 26
*Scenes from a city, part 1: Boston Mayor Thomas Menino has declared this coming Monday as "Positive People Day," a day for all and sundry to offer smiles, praise and hugs and eschew gossip, complaints and cold shoulders. To this end, apparently, "Positive People Day" volunteers will be dispatched to greet suburban commuters and Amtrak travelers beginning at 6 a.m. and urge them to "to smile and reach out to others with a friendly hello all day," according to the official press release. Questions: Who, at 6 a.m., really has the digestive system to bear hearing that?; and who, at 6 a.m., is actually capable of saying it?
*Scenes from a city, part 2: Boston's Franklin Park Zoo has a most compelling Halloween-related event. On one weekend, children visiting the zoo are invited to make papier-mache monsters and other grotesqueries, which are subsequently filled with animal-appropriate munchies; the following weekend, zookeepers literally throw these creations to the lions, who -- obviously -- maul the hell out of 'em and get to the treat inside. I'm sure there's a press release in there somewhere for PETA, but I don't know what it is.
*So no, ironing your mail won't chase away anthrax, and while boiling for 20 minutes or so might do the trick, it kind of renders the whole point of the thing moot. Me, I like the thought of using one's microwave oven for the task; and just to conserve energy and all, you should dry your wet cat or dog in there at the same time.
*Recent musical acquisition: "Angels and Cigarettes" by Eliza Carthy -- ...in which talented young off-spring of Brit folk legends Martin Carthy and Norma Waterson definitively blazes her own trail out of traditional music and into a far more contemporary vein. Eliza's vocals, which resemble her mum's Yorkshire-flavored alto, actually transfer quite well to the "pop" domain, as does her idiosyncratic fiddle/violin stylings. The first track, "Whispers of Summer," seems almost a tribute, and simultaneously a point of departure, for her trad legacy, as does "Whole," wherein she references a fiddle tune once championed by Nic Jones. Some good bits of sarcasm here and there, too: With a lush, romantic string section behind her, she melodramatically declares "Beautiful people are boring." Another stepping stone, although I for one certainly would not mind her revisiting her "Kings of Calicutt" era once in a while.
Oct. 20-21
*OD and I took in the open house at the Cambridge School of Weston, beginning in earnest our efforts to scope it out as a possible destination for her next fall. Certainly, nothing we saw or heard discouraged us from continuing. Just seems to be made for OD and kids like her; one girl in the student panel presentation talked of coming to CSW as far south of motivated as you can get, and now, nearly three years later, she tackles schoolwork with gusto. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a mission.
*Some bioterrorism experts, interviewed for a story in the Boston Sunday Globe raised the suggestion that at least some of the anthrax-laced mailings may be the work of domestic anti-government groups, e.g., those wonderful folks who brought you Oklahoma City. Not overwhelmingly compelling evidence, as they readily acknowledge, but what a tableau if the commando raids were to move from Herat to Montana or Idaho.
Oct. 18
*Me Mum stops by for monthly luncheon at the workplace, bringing along OD this time, and we visit BC's McMullen Museum of Art, which is housing the "Hope Photographs" exhibition. Funny, poignant, provocative in spots, and yes, hopeful. (OD's and my unofficial favorite is Duane Michal's "Grandpa Goes to Heaven," which can be viewed through the "Hope" Web site)
*During the visit, Mum tells me of a family friend whose previous diagnosis of terminal cancer now appears to be completely in error. And so now, here she is, having to plan to get another pair of corduroys for the winter and make a dentist's appointment. Back into the minutiae of life, Thank God.
Oct. 17
*Added a couple of photo links to the Oct. 13 entry.
*Recent articles point up a couple of overlooked aspects of the Sept. 11 Era: More than 90 Planned Parenthood offices also have been receiving letters purporting to be laced with anthrax, though so far none have tested positive; There are still a couple of dozen gravely injured survivors of the WTC attack, some with burns over as much as 90 percent of their bodies.
Oct. 13
Kids and I head off to the seaside home of a fellow Red Herring member for a cider party, despite cooler and cloudier weather than expected. The girls have fun frolicking on the beach and, apparently, attracting the attention of two middle school-age boys, and the party atmosphere is relaxed -- not a lot of conversation about music or dance, mind you, but more than congenial.
Oct. 12
*Book completed: "The Legacy of Reginald Perrin," by David Nobbs -- Having read no. 3 in the series recently [see Sept. 28], it seemed only fitting to read no. 4. This one starts with a rather high degree of difficulty: Twenty-five years after parlaying his mid-life crisis into a philosophical and financial windfall, Reginald Perrin has been killed in an accident, and his family and friends stand to inherit his millions if they commit an absurd act. Nobbs' peculiar 1970s blend of idealism and disillusionment sits uneasily in the '90s, but his affection and concern for the characters is almost enough to overlook the repetitiveness in their personas (David Harris-Jones' conversational stumbling has become positively unendurable, for one). Unfortunately, instead of closing the circle, at the end Nobbs seems to be preparing us for yet another volume.
*Recent musical acquisition: "Debateable Lands," by Kathryn Tickell -- Northumbrian piper par excellence (and not a bad fiddler either) has assembled a new band for this album. Somewhat more restrained and quiet than her previous effort "The Gathering," and I quite miss Ian Carr's inspired guitar accompaniments, but another impressive outing nonetheless. Highlights include the first track, "The Wedding/Because He Was," which demonstrates Tickell's grace and power, and "Stories from the Debatable Lands" (a reference to the shared, and oft-contested West Marches territory straddling England and Scotland).
Oct. 11
Most unnecessary unqualifier ever? (From today's NY Times):
"The Harlem Globetrotters have scheduled games against nine college teams next month, including one against St. John's at Madison Square Garden on Nov. 10.
The games will be exhibitions for the colleges and will not count toward their regular season records."
Oh, my friend
How did you come
To trade the fiddle for the drum?
(Joni Mitchell)
*Very torn about this. Seems like the right thing, but hardly a matter over which to celebrate or rejoice. As much as Bush et al disavow any intent at nation-building, you have to wonder what else can come of toppling a foreign government, however roundly -- but not universally -- condemned. Ultimately, I have to stand with my country, because all I hold dear is here. In lieu of anything more profound or elaborate, all I can come up with is the classic Sgt. Phil Esterhaus exhortation: "Let's be careful out there."
*One semi-light moment from Sunday: Residents in a few communities just north of Boston, fresh from updates, reports and live video of anti-aircraft fire near Kabul, suddenly heard what sounded like explosions and gunfire in the distance, with occasional flashes of light. Turns out the city of Medford was concluding a celebration of the opening of its new school buildings with a fireworks display. Guess ribbon-cutting and festive balloons just aren't enough anymore.
Oct. 7
Viewing: "What Planet Are You From?" -- Garry Shandling as alien from a planet of unemotional, logic-driven males sent to Earth to mate with a female. The joke is, of course, that Shandling -- schooled in basic intra-gender conversational technique on his home planet -- fits right in as a congenial but generally insensitive and non-communicative male human. Annette Bening's exasperation dovetails nicely with Shandling's bemused nonchalance, while John Goodman offers the more familiar comic relief as an investigator on Shandling's trail. Quite restrained, considering the genre, but more often than not feels too buttoned-down for its own good.
Oct. 4
*Posted some pictures from the Sept. 15 Harvest Tour [see below], right here (Click on the folder "Harvest Tour 2001").
*Recent musical acquisition: "Garmarna, "Guds Speleman (Gods Musicians)" -- Even if you don't understand Swedish, which I assuredly do not, you can grasp the dark, melodramatic essence of these songs, hybrid traditional-contemporary concoctions (like the instrumentation). Emma Hardelin's powerful vocals prevent the proceedings from getting downright ominous, but it ain't exactly an album for a light mood. Highlight: "Halling from Macedonia," a Scandinavian take on a traditional Eastern European folk dance tune -- multiculturalism in full, glorious flower.
Oct. 3
As if this Red Sox season wasn't ending on enough of a lugubrious note, their loyal and steadfast switchboard operator -- who'd held the job when most of the current team's parents were in diapers -- heads off to the Final Connection.
Sept. 30
Recent musical acquisition: "Balkans without Borders" -- a benefit compilation album to aid humanitarian efforts in that region. Imaginative mix of traditional and contemporary Eastern European musical styles. Highlights: Brave Combo, with an in-your-face, hard-driving arrangement of a Polish song that features a rapid-fire drum roll; "Esma," by Slobo Horo, which at the beginning sounds uncannily like They Might Be Giants' "Hypnotist"; The Reptile Palace Orchestra's "Godecki Cacak," with electric guitar scratches underneath bouzouki flourishes; the reggae-flavored "Ti Se Meli" by Annabouboula; and the anguished, and anguishing, "Tiring Night" by Meira Asher and Kocani Orkestar, summarized thusly: "A mother gives up her baby into safety before soldiers arrest and exterminate her."
Sept. 28
Books completed:
*"Reginald Perrin's Better Days," by David Nobbs -- Rather long time between trains (an apt reference in this case): Having seen about half of the TV series, I read the first two books during my year in the British Isles 22 years ago. In telling the continuing story of a middle-aged British executive seeking happiness and fulfillment through various unorthodox ways, Nobbs gently but firmly satirizes the domesticity, the routine and the familiar in British middle-class life. At the same time, he extols loyalty to family, friends and associates, even the ones who drive us crazy. But this third installment has a perfunctory feel to it, and the repetitiveness which served the narrative previously now just seems, well, repetitive.
*"Memories of a Pure Spring," by Duong Thu Huong -- Vietnamese composer and his younger wife, a popular singer, struggle with change, loss and disillusionment in the post-American War landscape. The abrupt shifts in time make the story hard to follow, which might be due as much to the translation of the book to English, but the intensity of emotion is palpable. Also a useful insight into, and reminder of, the abundant ambiguity in that conflict.
Sept. 26
*Viewing: "Being John Malkovich" -- Love to see how a TV listing would capsulize this one: "Puppeteer forced to take filing job at a bizarre office located between two building floors finds portal to the mind of actor John Malkovich, but his plans to exploit the discovery with a co-worker go awry." In any case, Malkovich takes the mickey out of himself to a degree rarely seen in film (or anywhere), and by doing helps lend an odd, and hilarious, credibility to the movie. Should deserve some kind of notice anyway just for the inventive puppetry.
*Harlem Globetrotters have signed a 7-foot Mongolian law student, Sharavjamts "Shark" Tserenjanhor, to what -- according to the press release -- is believed to be the first American professional basketball contract ever given to a native of that country. Glad to see the PR office hedging a little; wouldn't want to overlook all those native Mongolians who are playing professional baseball, football and hockey here in the US.
Sept. 22-23
*A weekend in which our two projects at hand get a slight but encouraging push. On Saturday, we pay a family visit to Home Depot to price supplies for The Renovation. Kids did reasonably well, at least at the beginning, before goofiness and boredom set in. A start, anyway. Next day, a friend who has home-schooled her daughter for several years now offers a list of activities and classes in the area which we could look into.
*Book completed: "Origins of a Catastrophe," by William Zimmerman -- The last US ambassador to Yugoslavia recounts the country's deterioration and ascendancy of Slobodan Milosevic and ethnic cleansing. I tend to be a little wary about these kind of memoirs, because you have to think that the author is more than a little aware of his or her place in history. But his anecdotes and observations about Milosevic and the other major players across the spectrum ring true. He also makes a compelling case, however much in hindsight, for an earlier and forceful US intervention in Bosnia. One thing he didn't convey as well, though, was the complex relationship within Bosnia's Muslims, specifically the strain between the educated, cosmopolitan population and the far more conservative religious.
*Musical acquisition: "English Folk Collection/The Rough Guide to Scottish Folk Music" (excerpts) -- The first has a goodly mix of older, more popular artists, such as Bert Jansch, June Tabor and Oysterband (doing a cracking head-on version of "Hal an Tow"), along with newer and less familiar ones: multi-instrumentalist and genre-smashing Rory McLeod, Gods Little Monkey and Ancient Beatbox. Highlights of the other album include medleys by Battlefield Band, Tannahill Weavers and Old Blind Dogs, as well as songs by Capercaillie and Dick Gaughan. Spotlight also trained on less renowned folks like Tannas and Ceolbeg.
Sept. 20-21
*A luncheon with Me Mum, which provides the opportunity for her to reminisce about her year working in Afghanistan for an NGO. She recalls government offices with no panes in the windows, covered by thick rugs or other materials to keep out the cold. She recalls the courageous chancellor at the local university, who insisted at convocation -- in front of a whole line of clerics -- that women must be on the faculty as well as in the student body. She recalls dressing up in various cloaks and other adornments to meet with Taliban government ministers, who averted their eyes as they spoke with her because her face was uncovered. She also recalls befriending a Taliban official, who had studied to be a doctor. Why, she asked him once during a visit, did you become part of this?
"Because the previous government was so corrupt, so dirty. I wanted my country to be clean."
*Oy. Talk about stories you just don't want to hear. NY Times reports that looting has taken place in what's left of the World Trade Center underground mall, and there's little doubt that it's been done by individuals in the rescue crews.
*But Les Barker, who can navigate flawlessly between humor and seriousness, has got it right nonetheless here.
Sept. 19
*Viewing: "The Wrong Box" -- generally entertaining, but ultimately disappointing adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson dark comedy about two families' attempts to cash in on an inheritance, complicated by chicanery and a series of accidents. The cast is British Cinema Hall of Fame variety: Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Michael Caine, John Mills and Ralph Richardson, as the most infuriatingly dull man anyone ever met. But the script seems to be half a step behind the actors, and vice versa, at times.
*If you didn't come here via the main page, you might want to look at this.
Sept. 14-16
*Friday night, LW and I joined a candlelight vigil in front of the kids' former elementary school, along with numerous other families in the immediate neighborhood. It was wonderful, life-affirming and cathartic, and also an interesting sociological exercise: When you get a group of people together, most of them sharing some demographic similarities in level of education and income, for an event that is supposed to assert their community identity, what do they sing? What, if you will, is their folk music? In this case, it ranged from "America the Beautiful" to "We Shall Overcome" to "This Land is My Land" to "Kumbaya" to "If I Had a Hammer" to "Amazing Grace" to a less successful attempt at "Imagine." And it all worked.
*Saturday, the girls and I went to the 2001 Ha'Penny Morris Harvest Tour out in the Acton/Harvard area, so OD could dance with Banbury Cross and I with Red Herring. Glorious day, although tempered by the deaths of two morris dancers on Sept. 11, and so we all dedicated our dancing to their lives and memories (A Boston Sunday Globe columnist provided his own tribute, of sorts). The apres-dancing dinner party was a lovely, relaxed affair, with excitable yet secretive pre- and early-teen conversations mixed with a quiet jam session of English country dance music.
*The next day, OD began what we hope will be a lengthy and enjoyable relationship with Team X, a high school-age rapper and morris team. Some of the more experienced dancers, many of whom we know from Banbury or other events, showed off their stuff. Geez, youthful energy in the service of folk dance is a joy to behold.
*Viewings:
=="Memento" -- A "backwards" film noir that may garner more attention for its technique than its script, which is a shame because there are some provocative questions raised. Guy Pearce, as an insurance investigator turned avenger battling short-term memory loss, asserts that he relies on facts rather than memory, because memory is merely interpretation. But, as the film suggests, the facts you choose to rely upon may be no more useful if the facts themselves are in doubt.
=="You've Got Mail" -- I chose this because I felt there was definitely a need for light comedy this weekend. Then it occurred to me how ironic, and poignant, it is in the wake of last week to watch a film that posits New York City as a place of romance. This one doesn't really get going until Tom Hanks decides to pursue Meg Ryan in earnest, albeit surreptitiously. But the supporting cast -- especially Greg Kinnear as one of those perpetually-on-duty journalists who are insufferable to be around -- helps hold things together 'til then.
Sept. 14
*Was there ever a weekend America, collectively, needed more than this one? Most everyone I see has a similarly tired, dazed expression.
*I guess even pre- and early-teen hormones cannot completely block out empathy. Coming home last night, I saw OD had made an 8 1/2 by 11 replica of an American flag, along with a little sign that said "Where there is life, there is hope" and hung both on our front porch. The night before, Middleton, NJ, families were being interviewed on TV to give them an opportunity to ask for any information on missing loved ones. One woman talked about her husband until she broke down in tears and blurted out, "I don't know if I'll ever see him again."
"Don't worry," said YD. "You will."
And, apparently, they both want to give blood. Even OD, who flinches at anything remotely resembling an intravenous needle.
*Local radio talkshow host raises the suggestion of whether it would be appropriate to consider expelling all foreign students during times like these. I think of the young Kenyan Jesuit I met recently, who wanted desperately to study philosophy at BC and nowhere else, who is enough of a technological whiz that he offers assistance to several campus offices -- and who, as a priest, was called upon to give the homily at the funeral of a young man who had been horribly murdered. Whatever we gain in security, what do we profit by ridding ourselves of priests, doctors and technicians?
*I've known this song for almost 30 years -- not by heart, necessarily, though after regular numerous listenings I'm reasonably familiar with the verses. Somber yet stoic and dignified poetry, certainly, but seeing as how we're not living in a 19th-century British mining community I could always take it straight. Yesterday, I tried singing it to myself and could not make it through without choking up.
Sept. 11
*Just before 6 p.m., I boarded a campus shuttle to start back home. Normally, the bus would be at least half to three-quarters full. Instead, there were only two students -- everyone else likely already gotten to where they were going (classes were cancelled at 4 p.m.). I remarked on this eerie quiet to the young man across from me, seated sideways with his feet up, and in a hollow, somber voice, he agreed. A few minutes of silence, then he noted my Penn State hat and asked if I was from Pennsylvania. No, I replied, but my parents met there so I've always had a special feeling about the place.
"Are you from Pennsylvania?" I asked.
"Allentown." A pause. "But my dad works in New York City."
I had to ask the inevitable. "Have you talked with him yet?"
"No. No one's been able to find him."
What could I say? I'm a journalist, not a doctor -- nor a priest, nor a counselor. All I could do was wish him the very best and tell him, please, don't be alone tonight.
*This is what I did today. Out of habit as much as working philosophy, I try to cover these events as I would have at either of my previous newspapers, attuned as much as possible to what's going on in front of me without participating. But when you are part of the community you write about, and more importantly, when you have invested personally and spiritually in that community, how can you stay detached? When the kids started singing "Amazing Grace," I had to join in, lump in the throat and all.
*I think of the word "sacrifice" and how it has been much-used this year as Americans have remembered and celebrated the dedication of World War II veterans. Filter the word through a whole other socio-religious construct, and there are the men who commandeered the four airplanes today and willingly ran three of them into buildings, convinced utterly of the worthiness of their own sacrifice. And if indeed America opts to wage war against those they believe are responsible, how many innocent men, women and children in Afghanistan (or wherever the campaign takes us) will become unwitting sacrifices on their behalf?
*Inevitably, newspapers run a sidebar about those who narrowly miss embarking on a doomed flight. A colleague of mine tells me of a friend of friends who was unable to make the first Boston-LA flight that was hijacked, and instead wound up on the second.
*It's ridiculous, irrelevant, maybe even insensitive to think this, but one more example of how things we take for granted are no longer as they are: The phrase "Twin Towers" can simply no longer be part of the basketball lexicon.
Sept. 5-10
*Ah, First Week. The first newspaper production cycle of the year. The first Banbury Cross practice of the year, in which I am thrust into role as musician. And the first Red Herring gathering of the year a day afterwards, with a smaller-than-desired but game roster.
*This was also opening week for schools, a circumstance that did not pass unnoticed by the kids. Obviously, not being part of the familiar routine so many others they know went through was more than a little hard to take. But after a couple of days of carping, things settled down. Both, in fact, eagerly accepted a suggestion from LW that they compile a list of books read over the summer. See, sometimes you can't help but want to learn.
*Pretty much done with the demolition work in kids' room, so now we can head onto the planning stage. A welcome transition.
Weekend of Labors
*More ripping apart the apartment. We now have nothing but studs separating the kids' room from the back pantry and kitchen. For sake of comparison, here's something of what it looked like only three weeks ago (no, we usually don't have a kid epoxied to the wall).
*BC starts football season on stirring note (34-10 over West Virginia), somewhat mitigating the drastic, disgusting, disquieting decline of the Red Sox.
*Viewing: "Limbo" -- John Sayles does a man-at-the-mercy-of-nature film his way. The long set-up, in retrospect, becomes necessary; he tries to give us some clues as to the relationships and social mores in the community from whence the protagonists come before they are stranded in the Alaskan wild, to help us prepare for the "Lady or the Tiger"-style climax. The acting balances itself out: however annoying Mary Ellen Mastrantonio's drifter-singer may be, David Strathairn is terrific as the haunted, reined-in, genteel modern-day frontiersman, and Vanessa Martinez, as Mastrantonio's deeply troubled daughter, takes the tortured teen character well above stereotype. One automatic credit for use of a Richard Thompson song ("Dimming of the Day") in the soundtrack.
