Monthly Archives: June 2014

Ashokan Farewell

I can’t tell you how this beautiful song haunts me.

Recently, the Thriller and I reached the end of Ken Burns’s epic docu-series The Civil Warwhich I’d seen 20-some years ago, but wanted to revisit. It was at the same time awesomely inspiring and crushingly sad. Americans inflicting such hideous, wholesale war violence on other Americans is, to us today, almost inconceivable. And yet, because it happened, we have been for the last 150 years spared a repeat performance. At no time in our relatively short history have we come so close to complete anarchy: something Abraham Lincoln feared most as he took office in 1860, facing the real threat of secession by southern states.

But back to the music. This beautiful tune threaded its way through all nine episodes, and became an expected, familiar backdrop to the many heartbreaking scenes of the war, depicted in countless photographs and actor-voiced testimonies from soldiers, politicians, family members and generals. A listener’s first impression would definitely be This is a tune from the Civil War era, but he would be mistaken.  Ken Burns approached Jay Ungar, renowned fiddle player and performer of traditional American music, who’d written “Ashokan Farewell” in 1982, asking the musician if he could use it as a theme for the documentary, as the song had touched him deeply. Not only did Ungar give his permission, but he and his band played all the music heard in the nine-part series. “Ashokan” was the only piece in the film not from the 19th century.

If you close your eyes and listen, where does this song take you? Perhaps you’ve heard school choirs sing it over the years, as it’s been a popular “folk song” choice for many directors, with its simple melody and beautiful phrasing. Maybe you’ll immediately feel the sense of wistful longing — what I like to call a “pulling” sensation on the soul — in the song’s haunting simplicity. Regardless, I think you will find it a thing of beauty:  something we need more of in this world.

This is how the film begins. I highly recommend you experience it in its entirety one day.

When the moon is in the seventh house…

…and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then Fink will write a post about politics. I know, it’s not the norm, as my disdain for both parties is as voluminous as that new diamond. But you have to admit, when something like this happens, someone has to aggregate the data and shock the world.

Actually, this isn’t as much about politics as it is the political journalism machine. Namely, FOX News.

When Shepard Smith takes Ann Coulter to task, and when both Glenn Beck AND Neil Cavuto put the Stone Cold Stunner on Michele Bachmann, all on the same day, well…

You know, this:

The Thriller and I are out to the school house today (he wants to expose Remy to yet another new environment), then back for some arranging work, followed by a slumber party with the Js. Hope your weekend plans are shaping up nicely.

Pretty punny

Son Lars is pretty good at solving visual puns (and to my everlasting delight, gets a kick out of some of them, as does Seamus). I like that my kids enjoy wordplay. Sharpens the ol’ gray matter, you know. Here are a few; some easy, a couple notsamuch. All are good, though. Solve ’em in the comment section. Ready, steady, go.

PS – I did #9 all by myself. :-D

#1

#1

#2

#2

#3

#3

#5

#4

#5

#5

#6

#6

#7

#7

#8

#8

#9

#9

#10

#10

#11

#11

There you go — have pun.

A Thick Existence

Over coffee this morning, I read an old short story by Stephen King (about a middle-aged woman named Jax — imagine that), and I kept going back to reread a certain phrase. I read it like five times over. A 60-something wife looks at her aging husband and thinks, this isn’t life; this is merely practicing to be old. Later in the tale, there is a reference to life at their age being “thin.”

As happens all too often, it got me thinking (unsurprising, given King’s writing, of which I am a longtime fan).

When I look back on my life, which is becoming easier to do, as I now have more years behind me than in front of me, what do I want to see and remember? Scrimping every dime in case there’s an emergency? Spending precious hours and days of my time off on “stuff that needs done around here,” instead of achieving a healthier balance? Working endless hours so I can manage to continually miss out on spending time with family and friends?

Should we have put the money we saved back towards installing a fence around the back yard for Remy instead of planning a trip to NYC? Probably. Except, no. Sure, it would have been nice and convenient, but truth be told, I’d rather take Remy to the dog park and play with him in a huge space where he can run around with other pups. So the fence can wait. For the last nine years, I’ve taken dogs out on leashes in the pouring rain, during blizzards, and when my yard was covered in ice. I can do it a while longer. Why? Because I want to live a life that’s thick; heavy, and webbed with great memories that stick to my soul. Because I’m willing to roll the dice against a “rainy day” when I might need that money for “when something goes wrong.” That which feeds the soul has to take precedence once in a while, and I’m aware it’s not without risk. But what an exciting ride…

Of course, this is not to say that I want to live life without a thought for the future. We do have pension plans and some extra measures in place, but by no means are we wealthy. We won’t live large in our “golden years,” but hopefully we’ll live sufficiently, with the intent to not be a burden on our children.

So, the fence can wait. So can the replacement of the main floor window treatments. It’s OK to not dive into a second mortgage so I can have a nice kitchen, when I have done just fine, cooking for large numbers in my cramped little galley. We will make do with the at-times limited comforts of our space, and be grateful that we have it.

Instead, we’ll go on vacations. We’ll buy those fun bunk beds for the grandsons. I’ll put a lid on obsessing over how many calories I consume in a day, or how that pair of jeans makes me look fat. For now, within the boundaries of finances, time and wisdom, I will live a thick life — thick with silliness, walks, reading, family, friends, travel, and memories. I want to do all these things while I am still able, and not look back 20 years from now — possibly when I’m less able, or even unable — and regret my choice to be safe and frugal, as opposed to choosing to feel young and free while I still had the ability and the opportunity.

It’s all about that balance, isn’t it?

Politics and humility

Those two concepts don’t often commingle, do they? In fact, the last politician I’ve ever heard of to have any semblance of this all-too-rare quality while in office was Abraham Lincoln. And I’m not talking about surface, for-the-camera humility; rather, I mean the kind that extends to every pocket of his platform — even the most earth-shakingly frightening of pockets. I mean the kind that allows a politician to say, “I have no idea how I’m going to handle this.” (Can you imagine a governor or senator saying that today?)

Indeed, we expect our politicians to never say those three deadly words: I don’t know. If they don’t have a specific plan for every issue on every level, down to the last detail, well…they might not get our vote, but they’ll surely receive our enmity in spades. Is that realistic or fair, given today’s myriad problems? Regardless, to quote EW&F: that’s the way of the world.

Back to Honest Abe. This isn’t an attempt to dissect his complex personality or paint too bright a picture of his deeds. Truth is he was flawed, like the rest of us. He had a morbid side, and was given to bouts of crippling depression. When his estranged father lay dying, and asked to bid his son farewell, Lincoln responded that to make the 80-mile trip to say goodbye would likely not solve anything or make things more pleasant between them, so he refused. He didn’t attend the funeral, either. A bit cold.

But the man could take a punch, lemmetellya. He must have lost in a dozen straight elections, and endured the mob-baiting insults of Frederick Douglas in the now-famous debates. He was criticized as weak, wishy-washy, and an assumed friend to Negroes at a time when it was decidedly unpopular to be so. Fortunately, Douglas’s bungling of the debates in the late going eventually fractured the Democratic party on the slavery issue, and paved the way for Lincoln’s ascent to the White House.

Again, I digress. Back to the subject of humility and admission of human frailty in the face of extraordinary responsibility. In response to a collection of speeches he received from a longtime lawyer friend and kindred spirit with regard to emancipation, Lincoln addressed the man’s assertion that slavery could be abolished peacefully:

You are not a friend of slavery in the abstract. [Y]ou spoke of “the peaceful extinction of slavery” and used other expressions indicating your belief that the thing was, at some time, to have an end. Since then, we have had thirty-six years of experience, and this experience has demonstrated, I think, that there is no peaceful extinction of slavery in prospect for us. The signal failure of Henry Clay, and other good and great men, in 1849, to effect [sic] anything in favor of gradual emancipation in Kentucky, together with a thousand other signs, extinguishes that hope utterly.

When we were the political slaves of King George, and wanted to be free, we called the maxim that “all men are created equal” a self-evident truth; but now, when we have grown fat, and have lost all dread of being slaves ourselves, we have become so greedy to be masters that we call the same maxim “a self-evident lie.”

The Autocrat of all the Russias [Alexander II] will resign his crown, and proclaim his subjects free republicans sooner than will our American masters voluntarily give up their slaves.

Our political problem now is “Can we, as a nation, continue together permanently — forever — half slave, and half free?” The problem is too mighty for me. May God, in his mercy, superintend the solution.

Of course, this was a private letter to a friend, so some slack is warranted, but Lincoln’s assessment of the situation would soon filter out to the nation in the form of statements that reassured no one. He tried to “play” both sides of the issue, by placating the North with talk of abolishing slavery altogether, while coddling the South with softer assertions to initially only limiting it. It made no one happy, and he was very unpopular. In fact, southern states began grumbling about secession before Inauguration Day.

I keep dancing off in other directions, sorry. My point (and I do have one) is that Lincoln, while at times playing the role of “politician” quite well, openly second-guessed himself, and through craftiness or gut-level honesty or guile or whatever, gave the American people the impression that he was struggling with these issues right alongside them. Who does that nowadays? Nobody.

Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of that type of transparency in 2014. Lord knows that with the exception of slavery, our issues are just as volatile — if not more so — than those of Lincoln’s era. Where is the politician who says, “People, I’m struggling with this, too. Help me find the right path”? He doesn’t exist, because he’d never win an election. Worse yet, who’d finance that campaign? (And, as we all know, the money takes priority first, middle and last.)

Who knows? Maybe a grass-roots, humble man or woman, willing to learn and question, is the necessary catalyst for a retooling of our bloated, strained, tired, sometimes shiftless and aimless government.

And that is what I wonder this day. Sidebar: I weeded my back yard yesterday, and it illustrated for me in no uncertain terms how desperately out of shape I am. Ouch.