Cloister Commentary, Day 334: 4WD

I had never before piloted a four-wheel drive vehicle, but, due to the additional snow and our need to get one of our cats her feline leukemia booster shots, I locked in the Chevy Silverado I inherited from my dad and had a smooth trip to and from the vet on pretty nasty roads. I thought it was going to be complicated but it was easier than shifting gears. I’m not a car guy. Even less a truck guy, though I’ve driven one for over a quarter century.

After the urology lab kind of forgot about the results of my month-ago prostate biopsy, I finally got the results: negative. Cool! I asked why my PSA levels were so high, then. “We don’t know.” Oh. Follow-up in August.

Started up a Facebook fundraiser to benefit the Equal Justice Initiative for my birthday. EJI is primarily dedicated to providing high-quality legal representation to individuals unjustly incarcerated or otherwise unfairly trapped in the legal system–plus the memorial the organization has established in Montgomery, Alabama, to recognize the victims of the thousands of lynchings that have been perpetrated on this land is powerful.

Dinner was Parmesan portabellos, fresh spinach, and baked potatoes. We finally finished the gargantuan batch of cookies Nicole made–just in time for the Girl Scout cookies we bought from our wonderful lil’ neighbor.

My former student from eons ago, Alex Pulley, tagged me in a post: when I taught him and his gang of dudes as Parkview ninth graders, I frequently made them mixtapes. Alex, now middle-agéd, just discovered The Minutemen (accurately referred to by my friend Mike Rayhill as “The Minutestuds”) and couldn’t understand why I’d not hipped them back in the ’80s. I responded with several comments and replies in rat-a-tat fashion without waiting for responses. Once your teacher, always your teacher, dude….

Streaming for Strivers:

Owed T’Alex (that allusion’s a nudge in another musical direction)….

Cloister Commentary, Day 333: Clear and Partially Covered

We’d been snowed in away from home for four days, visiting Mom and helping her out, and it was time to make a move. Our cats were likely close to be running out of food (we hadn’t planned on being gone quite that long), I’m never sure about the plumbing in this house, and Nicole and I each had some urgent business to deal with in Columbia. Trouble was, as we sank into sleep Monday night, the entire 220-some miles of highway we’d have to travel was, according to MODOT, covered or partially covered with snow, and the temps were hitting their lowest–and that was low.

Between my dreams of talking to (then fleeing) a school shooter and visiting with Rebecca Wimer-Pisano and her husband Frank in their nomadic pop-up trailer about what movie we were going to go see (and never deciding), I dreamed we slid off I-44 into a snow drift in the median and kept slowly sliding toward the oncoming lane. I only had t-shirt, socks, and slippers on, but all I could think about was…cats. Seriously, we’d had a couple of vehicular adventures on ice and snow we did not want to repeat–and those were on torrid 20-degree days. My stomach was churning as we backed out of Mom’s drive way.

Most of the 220-some miles were clear; maybe a third were partially covered, with at least one lane going our way clear. We poured a gallon of Mardi Gras music into our ears as accelerant for our relief. The cats and pipes were fine, though they’d rearranged all of our area rags and redecorated with some well-placed hairballs. Also, Chad Ferguson, the son of our good friends Denise and Dennis, sent me his band’s new vinyl record for my (upcoming) birthday, which was leaning against the front door when we hit the top of our steps.

It’s hard being separated from family by many miles in these times, especially when they’re hurting. Thanks again, and always, to the chosen wing of our family structure: the Carlin, Dickens, and Garrett families (plus Jeanne, Kathy, and Jerry). And to a biological wing that’s closer geographically than we are, the Hague and Insley families. Completely without hyperbole, we could not be doing this without you.

Streaming for Strivers:

Also leaning against my front door when we returned, a vinyl copy of this great documentary project from the 1970s, recorded by Bloods author Wallace Terry. Black oral history.

Cloister Commentary, Day 332: Lundi Gras Workout

Ahhhh, intense, sustained physical activity! I’d truly missed it. Despite the possibility that I would feel crippled in the aftermath from 99% muscular atrophy, I shoveled a long, two-car driveway, accompanying sidewalk, and a bit of curb yesterday. And survived! I’m not even that sore as I thumb this out. One of three highlights of the day.

Second highlight: Nicole, Mom and I got caught up with David Letterman’s Netflix interview show by checking out his powerful conversations with Dave Chappelle (that dude is inspiringly thoughtful and eloquent offstage!) and Ellen DeGeneres (her journey’s been even more inspiring than I knew). We also dug DeGeneres’ recent Netflix special.

Third highlight: my good friend from NOLA, Clifford Ocheltree, called me on the phone–on the phone!!!–to wish me a happy birthday (it’s still pretty early, but also still welcome). He brought me up to speed on his mayor’s struggles with Mardi Gras and COVID, his continued genealogical deep-dive, which connects to Columbia, and the fascinating historical humans John Hay and Claude King. He packed all that in to about 30 minutes.

Streaming for Strivers:

It’s Mardi Gras–do what you wanna, to a point?

Cloister Commentary, Day 331: Valentine’s Day Cold Massa-cree

We didn’t really need another challenge, but we received one. The frigid temperatures plus a mess of snow just made my nerves twist and tighten, as we will be needing to be on the road soon, so I had to fight to just let it go. Can’t control it; gotta accept it. How many times have I said that to myself over the last 11 months?

Valentine’s Day, in spite of the winter blast, was nice. My mom is still struggling post-severe-UTI–but she’s inching her way back to health. Nicole made a terrific chicken stew for lunch (a perfect combatant against the weather), and I whipped up bacon and eggs (scrambled in the grease) and English muffins for dinner. We all read a bit in the afternoon, and enjoyed our usual PBS Sunday Night via an episode a piece of The Durrells and All Creatures. I’ve never read the latter’s source book by James Herriot, but–call me a sentimental old fluff–I think I’m going to have to. I’d hoped to catch the Lakers-Nuggets game but the wind had died behind my sails. Bottom line: I was locked in with my two favorite ladies on February 14th, and that was just right.

But…in a different reality…this morning it would have been nice to wake up in The City That Care Forgot. Happy Lundi Gras.

Streaming for Strivers:

I’m sending this, the first commercial recording to feature Mardi Gras Indian chants, out to Marsha and Tom. Bon ton roulez, y’all–two more days til ya gotta clamp down!

Cloister Commentary, Day 330: Light Entertainment

Our normal Valentine’s Day is an “Overeem Special” from Shakespeare’s (red onions, mushrooms, pepperoni, pepper cheese, and green olives) and a good movie. That isn’t going to happen this year; we are eating healthier, for one, and we’re out of pocket, for another. But Nicole and I will be together with my mom, chicken stew is on the menu, and I believe they are going to treat me to an episode of “Men in Kilts”….

Yesterday, we spent a day inside because we are sane. I made grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone, we ate a thousand of Nicole’s homemade cookies, Mizzou dropped one at home to The Nouveau Border War Adversary, and we took in the first episode of “Clarice” (not horrible, other than the subject matter) and Promising Young Woman (it definitely sticks with one, and I never thought I’d see Carey Mulligan pull that kind of role off). As you can see, we enjoy light entertainment on our family Saturday nights.

Streaming for Strivers:

Smokey: a Valentine’s Day secular kind of muezzin. I just stumbled upon this “stripped” collection; I don’t know if it was a true release, but let’s not quibble.

Cloister Commentary, Day 329: The Drive

Nicole and I were on a drive last night, and started to reflect on this trying journey. In 36 days, this commentary will have stretched to a full year. We speculated on how difficult it is to tell how permanently the isolation will affect us, and just how those effects will manifest after we reach a clearing. The only relatively large gathering of people in which we’ve been in the midst since March 13 was my dad’s funeral service in June; that was ill-advised, but his passing was so sudden and unexpected I felt I was in some other existence (at least everyone was masked, and no one seemed to have gotten sick as a result). I haven’t spoken to a student in person since February, or even held a class since July. Nicole spoke of the relaxing experience of just gliding into a restaurant, ordering some good food, and taking our time, and of the fun of planning a trip in excited detail, then living it out, with old friends along for the ride or at the end of the road. And just being able to celebrate occasions, life, relationships. We miss that stuff in our bones.

We fell silent, and punched up “Night in Tunisia,” “Queer Notions,” that double-standard-hit-double-whammy “Runaround Sue” / “The Wanderer,” the Stones’ “Happy,” “Looking for a Kiss,” a Patti Smith “block party,” then closed the drive down with one of our all-time favorite albums (Nicole kept turning it up, and up), Dramarama’s Hi-Fi Sci-Fi. I believe we’re gonna make it (with a little luck, Joe Tex, you may be right).

Additional pulses of joy: my mom’s feeling much better after a severe UTI (her chosen family tended to her in our absence, thank the stars), and the other student teacher I’m supervising (I reported on the first in yesterday’s commentary) was hired to teach English at my old place of business, David H. Hickman High School, the Home of the Kewpies!

Accompanying foreboding: more extremely frigid temps–and possible snowfall. Our outdoor cats are now housed in the garage.

Streaming for Strivers:

A great drummer has passed. He left the world more interesting than he found it.

Cloister Commentary, Day 328: BiPap Boy

Both of the student teachers I am supervising for Mizzou this semester seem extraordinarily ready. I observed one of them yesterday (via Zoom, but that was more than adequate), and she was passionate, professional, knowledgeable, firm, challenging, and kind. The lesson focused on James Baldwin’s essay “If Black English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is?”, African-American Vernacular English, and code-switching–it was the highlight of the day. She’s already ready. I can’t wait to watch her next lesson.

I visited my pulmonologist in the afternoon (I now have quite a roster of health professionals to check in with), who informed me that I will be wearing a BiPap mask due to my sleep apnea. Google one; they are not sexy.

I’ve also been advised to quit caffeine. I only have a cup and a half of coffee and one cup of tea a day, but I guess I will wean myself off (I just typed that looking into the bottom of my morning cup). Also, alcohol–I already completed Dry January (not counting the first three days), so I guess I’ll keep that rolling. I guess 2021 will be my year of self-abnegation.

One of my best friends is a pharmaceutical rep who, amused but seriously curious, has been following my sleep apnea saga (he suffers from it on a less serious level). After I reported my mask prescription to him, he said, “Well, you got your COVID shot, right?” I replied, “No, I —-ing have not!” Exasperated, he said, “You’ve got atrial fibrillation issues AND severe sleep apnea–that qualifies as a heart condition!” Sometimes I’m slow on the uptake; I re-registered for a shot, so maybe my wait won’t be until after April Fool’s Day.

Streaming for Strivers:

A great example of Mary’s many great ideas.

Cloister Commentary, Day 327: Cookies for Breakfast, Cookies for Dinner

Ate cookies for breakfast.

Went to work, where it was quiet.

Facing a great degree of challenge and apathy, updated my music blog.

Kept abreast of my mom’s ongoing, relentlessly shifting health issues and wished I lived closer. Thanked the stars she has a “family team” in her hometown.

Came home and escaped into Nicole’s hug and smiles, and a book.

Prepared for my own next health “interaction” by filling out paperwork containing the exact same four pages of questions I filled out last week.

Ate “greens ‘n’ garlic” ravioli from Pasta La Fata…and more cookies.

Vegged out to The Durrells of Corfu, though the science vs. seance episode was deeply welcome.

Another COVID day.

Streaming for Strivers:

A Black history musical griot.

Cloister Commentary, Day 326: ‘Castin’ and Cookin’

I woke up at 3 with nothing that stress-inducing on my mind–nothing specific, which is usually what sends my mind too wakefully searching–but I was totally alert and unable to even imagine going back to sleep. I just got up, performed my morning rituals, and tip-toed around so Nicole could catch up on her shut-eye (I hate it, but she doesn’t sleep well when I’m gone). Fortunately, the cats cooperated, Tux and Junior delaying their daily thunderous hallway wrasslin’ until later in the afternoon.

Chase Thompson, one of the many excellent educators at Stephens and truly among the most enthusiastic, curious, and creative teachers I’ve known, invited me to visit his class and be interviewed in podcast style. He’s teaching his students to construct those, but he’s also making his own with fellow Stephens folks as subjects. I was very humbled to have been asked, since I am so low on the academic totem pole I’m under ground, and we had a blast. We talked about masks, Facebook threads that last multiple months, mentors that find you rather than vice versa, ground-breaking musical moments in our youth that change everything, and so much more. Speaking of those far-unfurling Facebook threads, Chase made me relive one that happened on my wall (“Pick one and justify it: Otis Redding or Wilson Pickett” is an example–remember that one?) by letting his students interrogate me: Pink or Ariana Grande? Genesis or Rush? Pink Floyd of Tame Impala? None of those are my particular cuppa, but I survived!

When I got home, I found Nicole in full-on cooking mode–she had a kind of snow day, as her school’s heating system was down and they were needing time to install a part. She made some delicious hummus, some dangerous oatmeal-cherry cookies with raw sugar crusted up on top of ’em, and a belated crockpot full of her famous Chiefsburger Soup. That’s the kind of cooking I love cleaning up after.

Closed out with The Durrells in Corfu and All Creatures Great and Small and crossed my fingers for 7-8 hours of sleep.

Streaming for Strivers:

Her voice, guitar, and spirit have rung out eighty-plus years and show no signs of slowing.

Cloister Commentary, Day 325: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

I’d driven about 1,000 miles over the past five days, and finally came to rest back home in frigid-gettin’-more-frigid Columbia. Left Mom in Monett with some ideas I hoped might help, and maybe they did: after eight months–that was a smart delay–she boxed up my dad’s clothes (with the help of Phyllis and Mike Garrett) and took them to Crosslines. Few things are harder to do after the death of a loved one, but few things are (at least eventually) more necessary. I am very proud of her! And grateful: I’m perpetually underdressed for cold snaps and she sent me with one of Dad’s big coats. The roads were fine, but freezing drizzle had been forecast, and she didn’t want to see me trudging up a shoulder of I-44 in worn ol’ hoodie.

Nicole was at work when I arrived, but homemade peanut butter, chocolate chip, and oatmeal cherry cookies were waiting for me, as well as some of her famous sweet-potato-enriched enchiladas. I got caught up on my reading, filled out some endless paperwork for my upcoming pulmonary appointment (I tell ya, it never ends!), and had an enjoyable FB Messenger convo with the mentally energetic Adam Sperber regarding The Five Royales, Tony Williams, Sonny Sharrock and other geniuses.

When Nicole got home, we cooked a pizza and some spinach, got under the covers, lounged, read, transformed into cat furniture, and hit the sack early (well, the time was normal for one who awakens when we do). There’s no place like home, especially right now.

Streaming for Strivers:

Speaking of Black musical history titans who left us too soon and are too little known to the general public, the inventor of chainsaw jazz!