Cloister Commentary, Day 78: Gut-Shot

Critical readers should be prepared to look askance on occasion at The New York Times‘ coverage, but yesterday it offered two items that left me gut-shot. One was a meticulous reconstruction, from multiple recorded sources, of George Floyd’s final eight minutes and forty-six seconds of life; the other was culture writer Wesley Morris’ reaction to the same tragedy, in which Patti LaBelle’s ’85 live version of “If You Don’t Know Me By Now” undergoes a shattering recontextualization. If you know Harold Melvin and The Blue Note’s (really, Teddy Pendergrass’) original hit version, or Simply Red’s hit remake, I promise you will never hear them the same way again after reading Morris’ piece. You must listen to Patti’s version either before or after reading it. I am for damn-sure building a class around it next week.

In addition, a classic StoryCorps episode, in which a black father and his nine-year-old son discuss their life together in Mississippi, and a revisiting of George Perkins and The Silver Stars’ “Crying in the Streets”both ensured I would remain a sentient being for the day. I know I am constantly pushing media here but it keeps me human, and if it can help you, too, then my seconds have not been wasted.

In the late afternoon, I had a great, wide-ranging phone conversation with the spirited Bess Frissell. Once, when she was very young, she ran at top speed from one end of a Hickman High hallway to the other, where I happened to be standing, and at full force leaped on me like a mad monkey. That is one of my favorite memories of being a Kewpie. We laughed, kvetched, speculated, commiserated, traded theories, and compared dilemmas. And planned to get caught up soon.

Nicole and I closed the day with a trip to Tony’s Pizza Palace’s curb, a kat klatsch, and a chasing of last night’s strawberry moon. We caught it for the best possible view at the Hickman labyrinth. What do you know?

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Streaming for Strivers:

Something never to give up on. Here’s your chance to dance your way / Out of your constrictions.

Cloister Commentary, Day 77: WWJJD?

The day opened with Nicole’s delicious thick blueberry pancakes, some real maple syrup, and two poached eggs. After that, I was ready for anything.

I experimented with an open Zoom writing workshop, since my charge have a paper due for peer (and my) review Monday. Seemed to work fine. I had a few students pop in to (gently) bounce ideas off me, including the one who wore a WWJJD shirt to class yesterday (“What would Joan Jett do?”). Week 1 of summer school teachin’? Loved it.

For lunch, Nicole fixed us our 10th locally-grown 🍅 + (Blue Plate) mayonnaise + lettuce sandwich of the pandemic. Our summer officially starts with those.

I previous mentioned Derf Backderf’s graphic novel Trashed, but I didn’t expect to devour it in two sittings (it’s 260 pages long). If you’ve ever wondered about the fate of your trash, or reflected on your trash practices, you might want to check it out. Plus, it’s eye-wateringly funny, and distinctively drawn. Backderf’s much-anticipated Kent State book arrives on September 4th.

We closed the day with a relatively long jaunt around our neighborhood which we completed just before trouble descended in our locality–and just opened today marveling at a strange, jaundiced sunrise.

Streaming for Shut-Ins (Do I need to rename this feature?):

Rod Taylor, thanks for recommending Mr. Gil’s Refavela to me, which led me to THIS one, which I also love and had never heard. Folks, this musician is a shining jewel of Brazilian expression…

Cloister Commentary, Day 76: Run For a Jewel

First long neighborhood walk in awhile. First watering of the landscaping. The roses are poppin’–Japanese beetles, stand down!

Absolutely not kidding–my summer school students responded to their reading assignment with the best analytical discussion I’ve witnessed in a long time, through that dang Zoom. They read three essays that I carefully selected to help them set early goals for their own writing: Roxane Gay’s very recent piece in the NYT, Yuyun Yi’s short, sharp, and vivid “Orange Crush,” and Zoe Shewer’s three drafts of “Ready, Willing, and Able.” They participated pretty broadly and had amazing insights, and I think they’d have appreciated my facial expressions if I’d remembered to “Start Video”!!! All they saw for the first half-hour was an avatar of me standing on the stage of The Blue Note in a Dead Moon shirt, yelling during a Battle of the Bands.

I played with three of our cats for maybe too long (Jeez Louise, I’m 58!). They have found a cruddy piece of cord that is driving them insane–they have no time for official toys–and I have to hang it up on a nail high on a wall after each round unless I want to lose it. I walked into the office and Spirit was sitting there, staring at it as if that would make it drop, so I put her, Junior, and Cleo through their paces. #COVID19activities.

Speaking of COVID-19, my test results came back and I am negative. Nicole is still waiting for hers.

I began Walter Johnson’s The Broken Heart of America: St. Louis and the Violent History of the United States. If the whole book is as shattering and mind-boggling as the introduction, it will be one I will never forget. Also, Run The Jewels literally said “F***k it” and dropped what could well be the album of the year early, for free–but with suggested funds linked to which fans can donate and support the protesters and the fight for justice. I would have linked the full album today, but a usable one doesn’t yet exist. You’ll have to settle for Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Cloister Commentary, Day 75: Boogids!

COVID-19 Test: Up my nose with a very long Q-Tip! The health worker who tested me had gotten so good at the process that, when she experienced some difficulty breaching my right nostril, she had another swab up my left and out before I even knew what was going on. I swear I saw her grin just before we drove away.

Stephens virtual class: I love this Zoom stuff! (I have a history in my teaching career of loving stuff I start out hating or vociferously arguing against. I’m not very smart.)

First-ever absentee ballot: 100% success. Thanks, fellow voters, for supporting the school bond in these tough times.

Louise Erdrich’s The Night Watchman: Even the acknowledgments choked me up a bit; on other fronts, it includes some of the sweetest and wittiest discussions about and depictions of sex I’ve ever read, and I now know “boogid” is Chippewa slang for “fart” (there’s a female character who always boogids immediately after eating a hard-boiled egg).

Neighborhood: Nicole and I read and enjoyed a cocktail on our front porch without all hell breaking loose in our vicinity.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

The warm twang of this great Floridian graces a brand new and very solid album, but I always turn in this direction when I “need” him.

Cloister Commentary, Day 74: The Buzz

Some readers may breathe a sigh of relief to learn that I finally taught my first-ever Zoom class to a group of students I’d never met (from all over the country), and not only did I catch the buzz of teaching excitement that I was afraid I wouldn’t, but the students who showed up were down for the program to a one–and it’s some hard work. No more neurotic whining from me! Six students didn’t make the scene, but one was at the dentist with a broken tooth, one was a working mom with log-in issues–those two did turn in their assignments–and I hope the rest had to sacrifice a class to get some sleep after having protested this weekend. The essays students submitted last night (on-demand diagnostic essays) look sharp, Dr. Trish!

I celebrated my relief by donating a pint at the American Red Cross. I’ve tried to to donate the maximum pints in a year the last three years, but something always trips me up, COVID-19 this time (I’d had to cancel two appointments). The local branch off Providence has their pandemic operation down cold, though two dude donors apparently could not read the signs planted right beyond the entrance. My new goal is to try to catch my friend George Frissell in total donations, since he will not be donating anymore (the Red Cross staff is mourning him a bit as well): he’s only 228 pints ahead of me.

Speaking of the late Mr. Frissell, we were happy to learn that a memorial project for him at Hickman High School has gotten the green light. More later. I can assure those that know him it is fitting.

You like graphic novels? I do, especially if they’re off the beaten track. I started Derf Backderf’s Trashed yesterday, which draws on his experience as a city sanitation worker in Milwaukee. Backderf’s main claim to fame is his book My Friend Dahmer (yes, he went to junior high and high school with him), and his Kent State book arrives timed perfectly in the fall.

Nicole and I put the day to rest with some great spaced-out conversation with our neighbor Shireen on her back deck. As usual, our talk was rangy, and Steve, we broke into that Guinness care package you sent us and it was effective.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Don’t let nothin’ turn you ’round.

Cloister Commentary, Day 73: Citizens of Minneapolis

After days of waiting for the right morning, we drove to Capen Park, hiked up to a gorgeous bluff overlook our friend George Frissell had shown us long ago, then walked an additional couple of miles over to Old 63 and back. It was the perfect start for a morning in these times.

We also had Zoom escapades. Nicole walked me through some tips and tricks–she’s more practiced than I–so now I can confidently share a screen and won’t create a waiting room in the middle of a class. I DO need a haircut, but I’m working on my inner and outer Jeff Bridges. Shortly after my training, my parents and brother joined as for a virtual hangout and we were glad to hear everyone’s doing ok.

If you haven’t read Louise Erdrich, you really should. She’s not just one of the greatest Native novelists to ever publish, she’s one of the greatest novelists we’ve known, period. There’s a whole world in her books, and her most recent one, The Night Watchman, which I’m about to finish, is a compulsive read. A citizen of Minneapolis, I am sure she has some new work brewing in her capacious brain.

I am not a fan of destruction. But in the case of that connected to the current protests–and JUST that destruction, not that caused by opportunists and outside agents–I understand it. Why do buildings have to burn? Before we get to that question, first, why have black men and women been killed by police (official and unofficial) with impunity, over and over again, throughout our history? As one activist leader said, “They sent the military, and we only asked them for arrests.” So much of what we have seen could easily have been avoided by a doing of the right thing. Second, I have felt the urge to smash sh*t up and stab at my own self out of frustration–and I’m about as privileged as a U. S. citizen can be. I can easily imagine how frustrated I would be if I enjoyed none of that privilege, and came to the (quite sane) conclusion that nothing I could ever do would stop the authorized oppression and threat to my (and my friends’ and families’) life and limb that seem like my country’s preferred ways. It’s well past time for a sea change. If you don’t get it but would like to, I can suggest plenty of enlightening and meticulously sourced books. If you don’t get it and either don’t want to or don’t care? I guess all I can do is retweet John Donne to you: “No man is an island, entire of itself.”

Mary, I do indeed wish George was here to talk to about this…

Streaming for shut-ins:

Spiritual fuel.