Cloister Commentary, Day 12: Zoom Bomb

Well, March is gone. Take a deep breath, friends.

Yesterday, I bombed my first Zoom class. Must have been something in the settings, but everyone received the invite, only one showed up as intended, I had to re-invite the rest, then only three more showed up after that, then I had to create a new session for the remainder, and only one made it to that (I only have six–it should have been a breeze). Plus, though I’d prepared them fully, my Bluetooth headphones wouldn’t stay connected (?), it was colder than a welldigger’s ass in the mancave, the cat kept interrupting, and…well, these kids aren’t exactly balls of fire at 8 am IN PERSON, but they were mos def cazsh on screen. At least I tried everything I could think of! Back to the drawring board…

I don’t take many naps, but–it must have been the stress–I went down like a controlled detonation in the afternoon and woke up feeling drugged. It took me two hours, a disc of a Springsteen bootleg (“Roxy Night 1978”), Nicole’s incredible red beans and rice with tasso ham, some ice tea, the news, and a neighborhood walk for me to fully return to the land of the living. While asleep, I dreamed (like I frequently do) of very mundane, everyday labyrinths. Does that make sense?

I am wondering what my Facebook friends are watching during their own sheltering in place. First episode of OZARK, Season 3 was better than I expected; I go back and forth with HIGH FIDELITY, mainly because of (plus) the lovably downbeat and charming performance of Zoë Kravitz and (minus) her character’s/the show’s weird idea of desirable men (Clyde’s OK but in reality would a woman like her give him a sustained glance?). The show also gets points from me for shining some brief but well-deserved light on Jerry “Swamp Dogg” Williams.

I was also delighted to be recognized as a good influence on a former Hickman student (early 1990s) who is now an outstanding school principal. Over 10 years later, I served as his subordinate in the short-lived Kewpie Tardy Office, where we laughed a lot but frequently bitterly.

Streaming for Shut-Ins: here is a good way to get to know (if you don’t) the music and mind of the sorely missed Gil Scott-Heron.

Cloister Commentary, Day 13: Shut Down

The world of Columbia Public Schools’ faculty, staff, and students was shook yesterday when a three-day pause was announced in proceedings, for the purpose of re-evaluating and re-thinking the system’s response to COVID-19. While that pause is likely a good thing–this is unprecedented, and our state government is still dragging its heels in its response–it might have been, for many, the first serious reverberation of the crisis’ impact. Nicole, who has been working very hard from home and keeping in close contact with her students and comrades, definitely is feeling it, I know all parents and kids are, and though I only interact with CPS as a mentor and student teacher supervisor, it shook me, too.

Thanks to a break in the weather, we’ve walked to Parkade Park and back three consecutive days, and every day we’ve at least said hi to a different neighbor. The year’s first “yardening” has begun! The unspoken mantra on our block: “Don’t be the last to mow your lawn!” We’re lucky: Deven and LaVere Lawn and Landscaping have had our backs since they went into business.

Some local happenings worth supporting: our excellent ward councilman Mike Trapp and his brother have created a shelter project for folks who are outside, and Broadway Diner is STILL feeding any hungry kid on a daily basis. We are donating, and if you can, you might think about it. See links in my comments below.

Anyone else having trouble sleeping a decent number of hours? We normally get up early, but either our dog or the buzzing of our inner wiring has been limiting us to less than six hours a night.

I generally dislike fruit, but I need a banana a day. Oddly, that little quirk is really my only obstacle to staying away from the grocery for a couple weeks at a time. I’m learning to live without.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Cloister Commentary, Day 14: Dr. Benway, Meet Dr. Praeger

Made our second successful foray to the grocery store. Again, I stayed in the car, so I only heard about it. Nicole found some pretty amazing veggie burgers made from mushrooms and risotto. They were created in a lab by a Dr. Praeger.

DrPraegers-VeggieBurgers-MushroomRisotto

FaceTimed with my parents and told them the “welding mask” joke, Ed Hamell. As expected, it was followed by three beats of stunned silence. Next time: the penguin joke.

Listened to two vintage recordings by the late Ellis Marsalis, who did not leave behind many. Another musician snatched by the Coronavirus.

Cleaned out a filing cabinet and found a pristine copy of the Columbia Tribune from the day Pierced Arrows made the front page.

While reading Richard Russo’s EMPIRE FALLS, I realized, considering the world through the eyes of the 42-year-old protagonist and identifying with him, that I was thinking I was his age. I’m 58. Had to make some adjustments, needless to say.

Acknowledged that Kleenex needs to be close at hand if we’re going to keep watching the national news at 5:30. But I have to say Lester Holt, with his intense gaze, meaningful pauses, and respect and concern for all, keeps me coming back.

Conjured this analogy: OZARK is to BREAKING BAD as John Popper is to Paul Butterfield.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Cloister Commentary, Day 15: Your Trash Ain’t Nuthin’ But Trash

We have been worried to death about the nation’s health care workers, small business owners, mail carriers and kids–but I’ve heard little talk about sanitation workers. They’ve had some local struggles here in the best of times, but these have to be exceptionally trying. We need to do our best to make their jobs as easy as possible, and not just sling our trash sloppily to the curb.

I’ve written before about how live music on social media is helping everyone stay sane. I watched this and I was motivated the rest of the day.

I had never been to a virtual happy hour until yesterday, when I was a fly on the wall at a gathering of Columbia Area Career Center folks. I apologize for not being more camera conscious and eating chips and dip right in everyone’s face.

My parents’ order of Chinese toilet paper arrived yesterday. It was not quite what they expected; in my mom’s words, “It doesn’t have the hole for the roll. Dad said it is 3-ply.”

Chinese Toilet Paper

Sometimes you just need to blow out the cobwebs. We chose to have a date-night DVD double-header, and watched LOST IN AMERICA and THE ARISTOCRATS. We feel a little more relaxed this morning.

Streaming for Shut-Ins: a great unsung jazz album from the Sixties, featuring alto saxophone Sonny Criss a West Coast take on East Coast “cool” by songwriter and arranger Horace Tapscott.

Cloister Commentary, Day 16: Calling Matt Foley

I didn’t do jack squat today. Perhaps I merited a visit from Matt Foley, but I ain’t no dad-gum machine!

I ate. I read. I had a cocktail. I took a nap. I resumed reading. I ate again. I watched some movies. I went to sleep. And–oh yes–I bathed. Even though I have not sweated since maybe February? Another reminder how fortunate I am.

Actually, it wasn’t quite that bad. Nicole made some killer black-eyed peas, collard greens, and cornbread, and I had to put in considerable effort not to have two helpings of each. And we did something for “the greater good,” Jason Summers: we watched SHAUN OF THE DEAD and HOT FUZZ. Yarp, we really do like that cinematic team’s style, and narp, neither movie gets old even if you’ve seen them multiple times.

Streaming for Shut-Ins: The long-running Aussie trio The Necks has a thing they do that no one else does, and they are VERY good at it. If you enjoy being put into trance states by very, very focused music that disrupts said states with subtle shifts of gears that can seem like explosions, I have a band for you.

GEORGE & PHIL’S BREAKFAST MEDITATION: Behind the Meal-Musings

My friend of nearly 30 years and fellow retired public school teacher George Frissell and I recently determined (or, more accurately, he forced me) to keep a Facebook journal of our samplings of the the array of mid-Missouri breakfast establishments. We’ve already met each other for breakfast and lunch many times since we were put out to feed, and we also host a concurrently running dining series called “Celebrity Breakfast,” in which we meet poor unfortunates who suffered us both as teachers and try to make up for it by picking up the check–and getting caught up on their progress.

We takes turns picking the joint (or taking requests from our Facebook audience) and picking up the check, meet each other at the crack of dawn (normally), and proceed to carry on like old men shaking our fists at the sky (our long-time theme song is “Desperadoes Waiting for a Train”–enjoy this version by a real desperado). In the interest of helping people new to the series catch up, I’ve decided to create duplicate entries here on my education blog, which puts them all in one place and allows me to slyly hyperlink words and phrases to broaden our audience’s understanding of our ritual shit-shooting. Seriously speaking, George has always been one of my strongest teaching influences as well as a loyal friend, so it’s only fitting that, like my Sancho Panzo to his Don Quixote, I follow him from place to place to make sure he doesn’t forget his jacket.

Boon appetites!

George and Phil and Nicole — My wife Nicole steadying George (left) and me in the halls of Columbia, Missouri’s David H. Hickman High School immediately after we learned we had been retired. As you can tell, we were crestfallen.

GEORGE & PHIL’S BREAKFAST MEDITATION, STOP 1: Cafe Poland

Yes, Columbia’s delicious Polish food outlet serves breakfast! As pierogies are the restaurant’s normal lunch and dinner fare, so are crepes (and breakfast hot dogs!) their dawning offerings. George opted for sweet crepes, a blueberry one stimulating him to verbal outbursts; I am a savory diner at day’s opening, and chose spinach/feta and egg/bacon/cheese crepes. Also, audaciously, George drank from my currant juice before I had a sip myself.

We discussed what it might take to cause us to emigrate to Denmark, the deliciousness of Wodehouse novels and BARRY, and future dining options. The service was great, though, upon both being recognized by the owner, we were chided for not appearing on-site more often. She is correct in this judgment: we both give Cafe Poland a 10. (Also, moths flew out of George’s wallet as he picked up the check. He’s now recording whose turn it is on his calendar.)

GEORGE & PHIL’S BREAKFAST MEDITATION, STOP 2: Broadway Diner

George did not really give me a choice this time, as he is strangely obsessed with pecan pancakes. Nonetheless, I was happy to visit a restaurant I’ve patronized since it was on the other side of Providence, more frequently in the ’90s–my “Stretch” years, when The Blue Note booked great shows that required culinary reinforcement and discussion afterward. My friend enjoyed his damn pancakes; I got a full order of their “legendary” French toast, the cinnamon tint of which DID justify that adjective. Hoping George would forget it was my turn to buy, I brought Nicole (who also got the damn pancakes), but he actually paid attention to his calendar and forced me to pony up. Our eggs on the side weren’t over-medium–rather, over-uneasy–thus an 8.5-9 rating. Under discussion: George’s minority religion education program (he’s spiritually indefatigable); law enforcement (I’m excited about Geoff Jones’ ascension); “class / club killers,” a school phenomenon identified by our friend Jami Wade that Nicole reminded us about; and the risen-from-the-grave aspect of another restaurant’s employee.

GEORGE & PHIL’S BREAKFAST MEDITATION, STOP 3: JJ’s Cafe

(Thin-skinned snowflakes of all political stripes, read no further. Also, with this entry, I am caught up in the documentation George has threatened me that I must do. You really think he’s non-violent?)

This is one of our favorite breakfast haunts from before our tour, and will continue to be. But it is a unique experience. Should I enter the restaurant with a book (I am almost always carrying), the good ol’ regulars seated at the “big table” stop their discussion cold and look me up and down for signs of my preference; George is from Texas so his aura gets him a pass. Also, George and I once met two fond former students at JJ’s, which may have been the first time an Indian and a South Korean ever set foot on the premises (it was a gently tense situation)–we happily take credit for internationally integrating the restaurant. Upon getting seated, I always interpret the conspicuous sign hanging on the far wall–“Keep Calm and Carry”–as referring to my book or newspaper. Our service is warmly stellar, and one of our favorite servers, Sean, is a Hickman grad who, of course, only remembers George.

ANYWAY, though I am known to be intense, edgy, and demanding, I always make it simple: country-fried steak and pepper gravy, two eggs over-medium (and they purt-near always are), hash browns however they arrive, no toast necessary. George, supposedly the gentle, flexible, accepting, laid-back ’60s survivor, demands “EXTRA CRISPY!” bacon or hash browns…or back they go. My adaptability softens his attack, fortunately for the servers.

Discussion: usually we talk state politics just loudly enough to be heard. Also, Bob Dylan’s old “Theme-Time Radio” shows crept into our chat, and I reminded George that he stood my wife and me up last time (he was dodging the prospect of paying for three). At least he didn’t leave any of his personal items at the table as he seemingly dematerialized upon our having licked our plates!

Based on the number of times we’ve broken fast there, we rate it a 10, and enjoy demonstrating we aren’t interested in division–that is, unless unity ISN’T extra crispy!

JJ’s has free Wi-Fi–but no website…

See you next stop!!!

GEORGE & PHIL’S BREAKFAST MEDITATION, STOP 4: Cafe Berlin

Cafe Berlin pics

It was inevitable that, sooner or later, we would land at this restaurant, a favorite of both of ours. We’ve both seen it grow from a small concern to a Columbia institution (another reason it’s a great place for us). Today, George enjoyed his huevos rancheros so much I got in a word edgewise; though my favorite is the whole menu (and that tempted me, as Frissell was paying), I settled for the smashing chilaquiles, just to taste the unique salsa they’re slathered with. Thanks to a nice lady minding her own business at the bar until George scared the pee out of her and forced his smartphone into her hand, we have a flattering pic of our stop.

When we were asked twice yesterday by people out of the blue where we were eating next, I began to grow nervous: now that we’re popular, what if George isn’t funny next time?

As we sat down this morning, I remarked that Nicole and I were a little sad due to placing two of our kittens with adopters, which led us both to contemplate our own mortality, which led us to compare recent prostate exams…well, things were going off the rails, comedy-wise. Fortunately, George broke the mood by urgently pointing over my shoulder, causing me to turn around and immediately appear to our fellow diners to be wolfishly ogling one of the servers. Embarrassed, I quickly recraned my neck to look askance at George, only to be told, “Her style is a little…granola, isn’t it?” He can get quite nostalgic for his counterculture youth, you see. When he then begin to brag about fixing a clothes rack in his wife Susie’s closet (neither of us are handy men), I knew we were back on track!

Cafe Berlin