Cloister Commentary, Day 33: It’s All One Day

To myself: “What day is it?” Me: “It’s all one day.”

We like to meditate with the window open, for the spring birdsongs. Beyond the birdsongs is traffic barreling down I-70. The birdsongs are like a veil; I fight to keep from mentally ordering the next few hours.

My project is moving in the lawn furniture and preparing the yard for our landscaper Deven, then putting out the garden hose and sweeping out the garage. Oh yes, and I really sweep out the basement.

Without the focus of a full-on job, my “ailments” become more noticeable: my tennis elbow, got from sifting litter boxes, is flaring up (I now sift left-handed), the calcium deposit in my palm feels bigger, why does my heel feel suddenly bruised, did I tear a ligament in my thumb, what’s that weird feeling under my rib cage, my nose is running and I have a slightly dry mild cough (it’s allergies)–am I officially old? Wait…also…I have an obtruding zyphoid process and encroaching hammer toes–is it all connected?

I need a nap in the afternoon. Instead I brew some Irish breakfast tea so I can keep reading.

A friend of ours from olden times named Greg used to magically and spontaneously create interesting meals for his family (and sometimes us) by just foraging through the fridge and throwing things together creatively. This is kind of what we do, and it is good, and I suspect it is a popular strategy for this longest of days.

Sharing crazy cat pictures was not enough to provoke comments from one of our favorite young couples, Patrick D and Mary Clare. Worried, we check on them. The future lawyer and current poet and teacher have been predictably laboring and scrambling, and they are OK. We just miss them.

Our series are ending (please put Ozark out of its misery!) or over. What next? Mrs. America–check. What We Do In the Shadows–check (GO FX!). But...the Jordan doc on ESPN? Fauda? Gomorrah? Babylon Berlin? The “Up” films, finally fully available on Brit Box? I feel like I am brainstorming upcoming units for a class.

Speaking of ESPN…I’m doing just fine without sports. Imagine that. I’m not sure I even need another face full of Jordan.

After 12 years of tormenting our sleep, our dog Louis suddenly decides he can crash alone and silent in the living room and hold his bladder for seven hours. A seemingly meager gift, but it is as from on high. Perhaps having his anal glands expressed was the key.

The spills, thrills, and chills of the COVID-19 shelter-in-place shuffle.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

An exquisite pairing with the above.

Cloister Commentary, Day 32: “Old Friends are Always the Best, You See / New Friends You Can Find Every Day….”

I’m sure I’m not the only one striving to strengthen connections with old friends, since I’ve more time on my hands and can’t easily see them in person. Yesterday, I called one of my best and oldest educator friends, Karen Downey, to catch up.

Karen and I worked together for 16 consecutive years as a special education-content specialist team in what was then called “class-within-a-class” mode. One, we planned lessons, assessments and units together to ensure all material could be sufficiently modified for our students who had individualized education programs (IEPs); two, we strove to deliver that material in the classroom in such a way that, if someone dropped in, they couldn’t be too sure who the content area specialist and who the special ed specialist was; and three, we had fun teaching together.

When I first accepted an assignment to work with her at Hickman in 1990, I was reluctant. I was 28, so I thought I knew it all. She also seemed a little conservative, and I worried she would cramp my freewheeling style. Plus–horrors!–she was 10 years my senior, and I didn’t need an oldster slowing me down. Well…10 years wiser, was more like it. In very short order, she taught me 90% of what’s really important about teaching to every kid in a classroom, she brought me closer to the middle (and I brought her closer to the left margin), and her precise historical knowledge and quicker-on-the-uptake classroom (and school building) vision radically enhanced what I was able to deliver to my kids. As a bonus, we became very close friends and quickly found ourselves able to communicate across the room with the flicker of an eyelid. Former students of ours will not only verify this, but also that she was the brains of the operation. With any text or lesson, at her suggestion, we could set up (among other strategies) a politically- or gender-based dialectic that could immediately make the material more interesting and relevant for everyone involved. One of my favorite aspects of our partnership was the visual we presented: I can’t think of anyone less stoic in front of a class than me, or more stoic than Karen! If a kid wasn’t able to connect with one or the other of us, they were probably not trying.

I’ve run on here, but she was the best thing that could have happened to my teaching, and I’m very grateful. We picked up yesterday right where we left off, as we always do. You ought to touch base with someone today who had a similar effect on your career.

We’ve found (it’s pretty obvious) that we’re spending much less money in this mess; we are lucky to have some. We’re also a bit frustrated we can’t get out to physically help to any serious extent. So we decided yesterday to double our monthly food bank donation, contribute to The Homies‘ local effort to feed hungry people and help food service workers survive this, and make a big delivery order from Love Coffee, which “provides job skills training and employment in an atmosphere of love to individuals with disabilities and barriers to employment” (their mission). I don’t communicate this in order to signal our virtue; these are just some pretty easy local things to do that really do help, if you are able to do them.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

To balance the goody-good and celebrate a wily septuagenarian…

Cloister Commentary, Day 31: The Good, The Bad, and The Good

The good?

Laughing our butts off at Randy Newman and his wife on CBS Sunday Morning (sheltering in place is bringing them spatial and motivational challenges).

Mixing a couple of tequila sunrises, cranking up the 2-CD Dead Moon compilation ECHOES OF THE PAST, and realizing we were fortunate enough to see the Coles play seven times, and get to know them. They have always been an inspiration to us.

A Zoom session with my parents Ron and Jane and my brother Brian and his gal Myra. We got caught up and enjoyed some great views of Dad’s belly (low-angle camera work). My mom is busy making masks for friends and my dad is out in the shop a lot. (See pic in comments.)

Mom and Dad

Nicole’s lasagna, made with fresh spinach from the Columbia Farmer’s Market–their operation is a model for these times. And doesn’t lasagna taste even better the second day?

Relaxing with a book, some music, and the windows open, and enjoying a beer on the front landing with our cat Tuxalini.

Tuxalini

The not-so-good?

Neighbors. A neighbor of ours already had three dogs they insufficiently controlled, and they recently added a NEW dog and a cat that had not been spayed and now appears pregnant. Yesterday, they gathered in their driveway with (at least) four friends for almost two hours, definitely not practicing social distancing, sharing smokes–and allowing the new dog to run freely in the street (stopping traffic twice) and over into our yard multiple times, though IT HAD A LEASH ON THAT WAS APPARENTLY DECORATIVE. Upon the dog’s last foray, Nicole stepped out and asked them politely to keep their dog in their yard. Response: “I’ll do whatever I want.” Animal Control does not operate on Sunday; a heads-up to the authorities went unaddressed. That unnerved us for the rest of the evening. It is really difficult, sometimes, to sit with things you can’t control. We will get better at it, but Animal Control is now on speed dial.

The good–on the rebound?

Tyler Keith of Oxford, Mississippi, is one of the States’ last dyed-in-the-wool rock and rollers. In the Nineties, he led The Neckbones, which were what the first version of The Heartbreakers (with Johnny Thunders and Richard Hell in tow) would have sounded like if they had been from The Deep South. But Tyler, solo and with his various bands (The Preacher’s Kids, The Apostles), has continued to make barbed-wire, hard-hitting music that’s continued the Southern tradition, most vividly exemplified by Jerry Lee Lewis, of watching the sunrise with God and closing down the bar with Satan. He performed a Facebook live concert last night to celebrate the release of his new album (see below), and that rescued the day for us, in a way. By the way, the album is great.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

This album has always done us good. Perhaps it will do the same for you!

Cloister Commentary, Day 30: Spread the Greatness

Note: This entry appeared in slightly different form on Facebook, where I could tag ‘n’ challenge.

To mark our struggle through this first “month” (for some, it’s been longer; others, shorter), I’m laying down a challenge to my brothers and sisters who read, watch, and listen with style: foremost in my mind are Nicole, Rex, Charles, Sadie, Isaac, Joe, John, Josh, Ken, Clifford, Paul, Alex, Susie, Peter, Zac, Kevin, Liz, and Vance. Here it is:

On your Facebook wall, post images of the book, record, and movie/series/show/episode that have made this mess most bearable. If you’d like to succinctly explain your choices, I’d be interested (tag me), but you don’t have to. Also, challenge a friend of your own. You can copy and paste this paragraph if it helps!

Book: I’d only read a few of Mary Oliver’s poems going into March and I’d loved each of them. I’d heard she’d run with John Waters’ crowd in Provincetown in the ’60s, and that also recommended her. But neither prepared me for the consistent brilliance, power, vividness and truth of the whole of her best work. Devotions, over 400 pages, constantly kept me engaged with the miraculous in this world, despite our troubles. Runner-Up: Sasha Geffen, Glitter Up the Dark.

Record: Dr. Mark Lomax II is a scholar, teacher and master drummer from Columbus, Ohio. His work not only celebrates Afrikan culture, tradition and styles, but also seeks to connect us, through music, to the thoughts, feelings, and practices that can deepen our humanity. His Friday lunchtime sessions on YouTube can seriously improve your day. The 400 Years Suite, a distillation of his eight-disc masterpiece 400: An Afrikan Epic, has truly energized me. Runners-up: Bowie’s Berlin albums.

Series: I approached Hulu’s adaptation of Celeste Ng’s novel Little Fires Everywhere, with skepticism; in fact, I was really only wanting to watch it because my lit-crush Attica Locke was involved. It turns out that the performances, fromthe two stars but even more so from the youthful actors, are terrific, and Ng’s vision of the connections between privilege, corrupted good social intentions, and the American racial and class divides is communicated intact. Episode 7 ( of 8 )was a streaming TV landmark. Runner-up: Better Call Saul.

Have fun with this, spread the greatness, and stay safe.

Streaming for Shut-Ins: less than a half-hour of country classics.

Cloister Commentary, Day 29: Grit ‘N’ Grind

Successful grocery runs: Moser’s on Business Loop (Wickle’s replenished!), Gerbes.

Successful Zooms: So long and good luck to my two student teaching interns, Morgan and Kristen. May the opening of public school in the fall be closer to normal for you.

Successful daily goals (we have been a little erratic as the “grit ‘n’ grind phase” has kicked in): meditation ✅; cat time ✅; reading (finished Sandburg’s “Chicago Poems”) ✅; check in on someone you care about (Bob Dylan is apparently live and enigmatically kicking, though the new single that dropped is not brand-new) ✅; hug and kiss Nicole ✅; refusing to let powerful person yelling “Fire!” in a metaphorical crowded theater on Twitter make me give up ✅. Sorry, but this stuff is more important than it might look.

Successful Culinary Experiment: Tried a meatless version of Tony’s Pizza Palace’s great “Zeus” pie–it’s basically a gyro pizza (so rich and delicious, especially with the feta!), so without the gyro meat I call it the “Hera.” Not only was it outstanding, but I got to pick it up curbside, wear a mask, and hand Kristen our money! Why am I excited about that? I am not entirely trustworthy in these circumstances, as I plunge headlong into in-person social interactions, and that tendency can cause me to black out on the new rules. Thus, Nicole has handled almost all of the out-of-house missions. Is this stuff stressful for anyone else? I needed a Tecate and a shot of tequila when we got home.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Something to play if you’re eating pizza tonight. Dedicated to my departed friend Bernard Watts, who first played it for me.

Cloister Commentary, Day 28: Between Scylla and Charybdis

One month down–we really started observing different habits on March the 17th.

Checking up on a friend yesterday, I watched a phrase come out of my thumbs, though I can’t remember it perfectly now: “the tug of war between public health and economic prosperity,” or something like that. In straits like ours, one roots for both, but also can’t possibly be blind to the Scylla and Charybdis nature of the bind. When I think about it, my gut churns. Nicole showed me a viral pic of angry Americans in pitchforks-and-flambeaux mode demanding a return to normal doings, in Michigan, I think it was. I’ve also read public figures argue that a few (?) deaths (of seniors, of students) isn’t that high a price to pay for a re-opening. One tries to keep one’s feet on the ground and maintain a stoic visage, but that sh*t is far too real not to feel one’s mask crack.

Sometimes one doesn’t want to get up in the morning to confront the freshest hell. My particular absurd motorvator to rise, especially on a Friday morning, is to check out the freshest musical glory. I chased away quite a bit of anxiety yesterday knowing new records by sui generis hip-hop act Shabazz Palaces, innovative jazz cellist Tomeka Reid (teaming with pianist Alexander Hawkins), (relatively) young god of the saxophone James Brandon Lewis, old god Bob Dylan (another weird, somber single) and Fiona Apple would be waiting for me this morning. I’ve never been a huge fan of the latter, but the advance buzz for Fetch the Bolt Cutters has me cranking it up as I type and wait for Nicole to emerge from Moser’s, and I’m chanting along, at least: “Evil is a relay sport / When the one who’s burned / Turns to pass the torch.”

We finally set up a family Zoom with my parents (in Monett, Missouri) and my brother and his lady (in Dickinson, Texas). Can you play Five Crown remotely? We shall see.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Classical music and African-American culture fans, unite to celebrate one of today’s birthday boys!

Cloister Commentary, Day 27: Small Circles

Sheltering in place is sometimes hanging out on social media and gathering wisdom from friends, or gathering wisdom friends have have gathered and hope to pass along. My pal Ken Shimamoto is both a wise man and a discerning gatherer, and this quote he shared from composer Arvo Part really resonated with me, especially after I said (sarcastically) to two other friends in phone calls (see below) that we have passed beyond the COVID-19 “honeymoon period.” Here is the quote, which I must pass on to you:

“This tiny coronavirus has showed us in a painful way that humanity is a single organism and human existence is possible only in relation to other living beings. The notion of ‘relationship’ should be understood as a maxim, as the ability to love. Although this is truly a high standard, maybe even too high for a human being.

Our current situation is paradoxical: on the one hand, it means isolation, on the other, it brings us closer. While isolating ourselves, we should be able to – we are even forced to – appreciate our relationships in a small circle and to tend to them. All of this we have to learn before we expect, or even demand, love and justice from the whole world. In a way, the coronavirus has sent us all back to first grade. Only once we’ve passed this test can we begin to think about the next steps. This is a very long process.”

Sheltering in place is sometimes hanging out on the blower, jabbering, sparring, plotting, and speculating with old friends. Yesterday, I had great conversations with two unique individuals I have known for almost 30 years. My former student and longtime fellow hip hop head Alex Fleming spoke with me as he moved vehicularly through his hometown of Chicago. We compared theories about the other mess we’re in besides COVID-19; we talked about caring for, loving, and jousting with family; we groused about the simple fact that it is difficult to have an intelligent discussion with an elder (the kind of person we are both geared to respect) when he does not know (or often care to know) the historical background of the issue; we compared notes, agnostic to Christian, on the positive value of Biblical lessons and the modern failings–and bad bargains–of evangelism; we didn’t even get to music (other than Chicago’s International Anthem label, and that was just me raving), but we will next week. We closed by singing the praises of George Frissell, whose Classical Ideas and World Religion class Alex took in the early Nineties at David H. Hickman High School here in Columbia, MO–and whom I owed a return call, which I made when Alex and I closed. George and I did our usual: breaking down the most recent Better Call Saul episode, and threatening to watch it and its companion series all over again, again. George’s favorite characters: Mike, Kim, and Nacho. My favorite characters: Nacho, Kim, and Mike.

Sheltering in place is sometimes just sitting on the couch with your soul mate, watching some quality programming, sipping tea, and eating five of her peanut butter cookies a piece. I must say that, having read Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, Hulu’s given us a winner of an adaptation, though one episode remains. Should you choose to watch it, you will see some of the best acting done by (presumably) teenagers in quite awhile. Episode 7, in particular–the penultimate one–showcased these youth nailing very complicated and realistic scenes so effectively both Nicole’s and my nerves were jangled afterward. As far as the adult acting goes, Reese Witherspoon has delivered a classic hateable performance (Ng’s original conception of the character is not so much so), and Kerry Washington’s spot-on as one of the more complex streaming TV protagonists I’ve ever seen.

You all hang in there, and attend carefully to your small circles.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

I’m sending this out into the air for this just-COVID-19-snatched jazz master Lee Konitz.

Cloister Commentary, Day 26: What is a Project?

Every Zoom class is weird in a different way. Most of my students showed up, but they were all sans video–understandable, as it’s an 8 a.m. class (I was looking a bit grizzled myself). I checked to see if they could hear me; they ALL used the chat function to affirm. I asked if they were doing ok, if they had any questions about the research paper they’re writing, if they had anything interesting to report. Five count. Nothing. So I proceeded with a stimulating discussion of (drum roll!) MLA style, pausing every five minutes to check for comprehension–and to check the participants. They remained “in the Zoom room” for the whole mini-lecture, but other than affirming again later that they could indeed hear me, they made no comment. I wished them well and encouraged them to reach out anytime for help, waited a five count, then said goodbye. Ghostly.

The Boone County Historical Society is encouraging its citizens to contribute to their project documenting the COVID-19 crisis as we’ve experienced it. You can step into the project by completing an on-line questionnaire that’s actually pretty enjoyable. Think about it.

Nicole made 52 peanut butter cookies yesterday. She said she made 52, that is–I counted them myself and there were only 44. In other food news, is there anything wrong with having a grilled cheese sandwich every day? I don’t think so. Has anyone tried putting pickle relish on one? I have done it thrice (Wickle’s Wicked Relish, of course) and I believe it’s for real.

My project was hammering back in some wayward nails on the back deck. I know: I need to raise my game when it comes to projects. I also applied five new bumper stickers to my pickup and ran some old electronics out to recycling, only to find the place was closed. I hadn’t driven for about three weeks, so it felt good to get out, though I discovered there’s no exit south onto Rangeline off of 63 if you’re heading north from the Paris Road exit. (This is more gripping than an MLA citation style mini-lecture.)

I unfortunately had to experience a clip from yesterday’s briefing. Every day a new low. My music-proxy response?

Started some new books in the evening–our rule is, if we’re not putting in physical effort, it’s not a project. Since I’m nearly 60, I read 4-6 books at a time to keep my mind and memory in shape (plus I like to have a choice every day). This batch is going to be great: Sandburg’s Chicago Poems, Don McLeese’s critical bio of Dwight Yoakam, Martin Duberman’s update of his monumental Stonewall. Reading is essential armor when fighting this plague.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

An album by a masterful jazz pianist that lives up to its title.

Cloister Commentary, Day 25: Glitter Up The Dark, Will Ya?

After sleeping on the couch again (it has to do with our dog’s mysterious ailment, which requires an Elizabethan collar and my nearby presence at night), Nicole surprised me with two hearty slices of avocado toast that would have powered me all day. I quickly forgot about the couch.

I was supposed to have a project, but I do not think vacuuming the carpeting counts. Mostly, I spent the day finishing Sasha Geffen’s Glitter Up The Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary (notice how I keep referring to it? it’s an old teaching trick…), a terrific book that I may require of my students next semester if one happens.

Meanwhile, Nicole created an altar / art installation in the basement closet of “The Kitten Room.” That is something to be proud of.

Installation

We decided to eat out again, and tried one of our long-time favorite spots, La Terraza. We love several different Mexican restaurants in town; they are each subtly different, and I prefer LT’s chili rellenos, while we both prefer their margaritas. “Curbside margaritas,” you say? “Indeed,” I answer: 32 ounce “travelers”! Those and the food went great with the tensest “Better Call Saul”(spoilers in link) I’ve ever seen.

La Terraza

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Continuing to mourn Hal Willner. Back when this was released, it helped push me off the high boards into the deep end of Monk’s pool of inimitable compositions. Willner’s guests range from Donald Fagen to John Zorn, from Dr. John and NRBQ to Shockabilly and Steve Lacy, and believe it or not, not only isn’t it uneven but it actually holds together. Dig it.

Cloister Commentary, Day 24: Tributarial Developments

This is really a great time to share music with friends. My pal Clifford, whose hatches are battened down on The French Quarter, recently prepared for me and other folks a four-volume musical companion to Charlie Gillett’s classic The Sound of the City, which traces the tributarial developments that led to an ocean of rock and roll. The highlight of my day was simply sitting with Nicole at the kitchen table, enjoying lunch and beers to the tune of Bill Doggett, Cecil Gant, Wynonie Harris, Ruth Brown, Hank Williams, Merrill Moore, The Everlys, Ray Charles, and so many more. We already had their music in our library, but Cliff assembled his compilations so wisely we had to listen to it that way.

We tried to go for a walk to the park–quite a beautiful day!–but of course someone was out with an unleashed dog. I understand that some unleashed dogs are better trained and friendlier than others, but that’s no guarantee they’re going to interact with leashed dogs that aren’t. Just sayin’…

We binged on two of our favorite snacks. Binging on favorite snacks is a requirement during a plague. If you can get ’em.

F0D2A3AE-4F75-4C81-A3DB-4AE584E118BC

Sunday isn’t Sunday without Call the Midwife. Seldom does an episode pass without teaching the viewer something new about the way women’s bodies are tortured for our species to be propagated, and last night’s episode was no exception. Nurses Crane and Anderson: now those are heroes.

Speaking of, in the morning on CBS, I also marveled at the ability of Cuomo and de Blasio to look directly at their respective audiences and speak with eloquence, leadership, clarity, respect, inspiration, compassion, concern, power, truth, and preparation. Hearing that was on the level of experiencing Little Richard’s “Long Tall Sally”with the stereo turned up to about 7.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Celebrating the birthday of a true original.