Cloister Commentary, Day 53: Dead Chicken ‘Round a Dog’s Neck

Anyone else out there feeling a little slippage in the routine they’d established to keep themselves together during this mess? We are. We had a fantastically full day yesterday; the signpost of of one of those for us is being able to meditate and get out and walk both, and being able to work on school and read and listen to music both, which we did. However, inconsistency in sleep patterns, going to bed with and waking up to crazy shit from life in your head, feeling anxiety and anticipation about the future, frustration trying to get work or get work done, suffering from “skin hunger,” too much snacking, missing important people and trying to figure out how to see them? All that can throw a person off track. We’re doing fine, but I just have to acknowledge the steep challenges.

Teachers often run into youth they WISH they could have taught, both in the hallways at work and out in the world. Among many, I especially wanted to teach the brother-sister team of Mitch Carlin and Madison Dickens. They are dear family friends from Monett, Missouri, whom I’ve known since they were younger than tykes. I had a terrific Messenger conversation with Mitch last night about great books (the latest in our series, actually)–he seriously gets into reading–and he made the “mistake” of asking me for recommendations for his “classics stack.” My own students know this is a perilous query; you best know you have some spare time after you pose it. Poor guy asked for 10 recommendations (actually, I asked him how many books he wanted me to recommend), and I predictably gave him 33 (including the entire Flashman papers; Mitch is a history scholar, a soldier, and just a dab of a rascal, so they are a must). Clearly, I miss teaching. Did I mention I’m a more-is-more dude? The list (I’d already recommended some prior to these, by the way):

Chinua Achebe: Things Fall Apart

Alfred Bester: The Stars My Destination

Octavia Butler: The Parable books

Alexander Dumas: The Count of Monte Cristo

George Eliot: Middlemarch

Ralph Ellison: Invisible Man

Louise Erdrich: The Roundhouse

George MacDonald Fraser: The complete Flashman Papers

Ernest Gaines: A Lesson Before Dying

Joseph Heller: Catch-22

Toni Morrison: Song of Solomon OR The Bluest Eye OR Beloved

Flannery O’Connor: Wise Blood OR The Collected Short Stories

Tommy Orange: There There

Charles Portis: True Grit

George Saunders: Lincoln in the Bardo

John Kennedy Toole: A Confederacy of Dunces

Mark Twain: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Alice Walker: The Color Purple

Oscar Wilde: The Picture of Dorian Gray

Nicole is having a disturbing Facebook experience! Twice she has employed a deeply meaningful metaphorical quote from the great Texas writer and talker Molly Ivins, and twice the social media mandarins have wiped the quote. Nothing profane was expressed in it, and as far as I know they/it/him gave her no opportunity to make a case for it. It’s one of many things that make me question why I’m here (on Facebook, that is), but apparently the growing pile will not prevent me from writing more paragraphs. I’ll share the quote in the comments and see what happens. Look for the name “Molly Ivins” (and if you haven’t read her, look her up). And here’s the quote:

My friend John Henry Faulk always said the way to break a dog of that habit is to take one of the chickens the dog has killed and wire the thing around the dog’s neck, good and strong. And leave it there until that dead chicken stinks so bad the dog won’t be able to stand himself. You leave it on there until the last little bit of flesh rots and falls off, and that dog won’t kill chickens again.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

One of Nicole’s fellow Spartans emailed her excitedly that she had to hear this record, which caused me to remember I’d never played it for her. Mr. Danny Gammon, she gives it a thumbs up! If you wanna engage with the (now, not so) new thing in jazz–though that term doesn’t quite do justice to the sound–click play, and do some research on the band, and its talented spearhead Shabaka Hutchings:

Cloister Commentary, Day 52: The Beguiled

Having closely read my Day 50 commentary, Nicole broke out her very accurate imitation of What We Do in the Shadows‘ beguiling Nadja (played by Natasia Demetriou). It very nearly persuaded me to quit reading and get off the couch.

The chef needed no mimicry to entice me to dig in to the aloo gobi she prepared for Sunday dinner. Her excellence in the early stages of her exploration of Indian cuisine bodes poorly for me getting down to my high school graduation weight.

Trying Desperately to Stay Hip Department: Seriously, I do enjoy yute music, and yesterday I sampled and very much enjoyed the new Kehlani album, meaningfully titled It Was Good Until It Wasn’t–trials and tribulations, but the gal is tough. Some smart students from a 2018 Stephens class of mine insisted then that I listen to her work, and I’ve truly not ever been disappointed. Also delighting me was the current release by African supergroup Les Amazones d’Afrique, Amazones, which ranges across several textures and moods in dance music yet holds together exceptionally well. I would have experienced the surprise release by Bad Bunny, but my very new Bluetooth headphones were also bad: they broke. I was taking them off when the right “wing” just snapped in half. What does one do with broken headphones?

Watch Call the Midwife. I ain’t gonna tell you again.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Your turn.

Cloister Commentary, Day 51: Difficult and Risky

Nicole planted flowers, and I was unsuccessful in trying to install a Wi-Fi adapter on her school computer. I did finish reading a book and write a little bit about Little Richard, who passed. I worry Jerry Lee Lewis will not survive the pandemic.

Driving to the bank and a curbside restaurant pickup and back, we speculated nerve-wrackingly about what the fall semester at our schools will look like. None of the possibilities look anything less than difficult and risky. The speculation was ended temporarily by margaritas and a Dave Chappelle stand-up special.

The day marked our 30th year together, and I’m happy to report we still have fun hanging out even if it isn’t fireworks, beaches, Ferris wheels, and party buses every day. We can be next to each other, content in silence, and address the routines and rituals with commitment and sometimes a zen-like pleasure. Even when sifting kitty litter and picking up dog poop.

I just realized that yesterday I didn’t write about the day before, which is what I do with these–I got excited by our anniversary and forgot. Friday, May 8, will hereafter be known as “The Day ‘Cloister Commentary’ Went Dark.” I already can barely remember what we did, so I suspect, dear reader, you didn’t miss much.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Happy Mother’s Day. Behold the humble mastery of one of American music’s most vaunted mothers.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?fbclid=IwAR2bDTx8ZH96h8Xlhnr79xj-ix24sAxFySgPcqOVXEeJrTRhnoZlCs1GObo&v=eoldgb1zBsw&feature=youtu.be

Cloister Commentary, Day 50: The Succor and Sustenance Awards, Iteration I

I inadvertently began this journal on Nicole’s and my 28th wedding anniversary. Halfway to 100, at which point I expect to still be commentin’, I arrive at the 30th anniversary of our goin’ steady. We’d been very good friends for a couple weeks, I was licking my wounds from having been officiously dumped, and I hollered at her one day about going to show with me (the Coctails, Murphy’s, Sprangfield, MO). She’d really been fun and funny, which was helping me heal, and she had stellar taste in music and books, so I stopped by Record Center to say hi to ol’ Mark Vaugine and buy her a present in gratitude (a cassette of Rosetta Tharpe’s Decca label Gospel Train, Volume 1). We met at the show, that band was lively, she loved the gift, we were laughing our butts off–and I just stopped at one point and asked her, “Are we going out?” Her answer: “I guess so!” You know the rest. I hope we have 30 more in the tank!

The 1st Cloister Commentary Succor and Sustenance Awards (links in comments):

Best Anti-COVID-Blues Album: Carmen McRae, The Great American Songbook

Best Anti-COVID-Blues Movie: Duck Soup (“Hail, Hail, Freedonia” indeed….)

Best Anti-COVID-Blues Show: What We Do in The Shadows (I have a crush on Nadja–sorry, Nicole!)

Best Anti-COVID-Blues Book (three-way tie): Élmer Mendoza, The Acid Test; Fernanda Melchor, Hurricane Season; Martin Duberman, Stonewall

Best Anti-COVID-Blues Curbside Grub: Beet Box

Best Anti-COVID-Blues TV Journalist: Don Lemon (nailed it, dude)

Next edition in 50 days. Have a great weekend if weekends still have definition for you!

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

This isn’t exactly the recording I mentioned above, but it will well and truly suffice. I know Bob Bilyeu will agree!

Cloister Commentary, Day 49: Beating Death in Life

Seven weeks. First, a poem for me, you, and us. I gave it to my seniors every year in May at Hickman, and I was not surprised to see it circulating yesterday:

“The Laughing Heart,” by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

As Tom Waits said simply after reading it aloud once on camera, and being briefly stunned, “That’s a beauty.”

Speaking of seniors in May, Nicole and I have kept the memory of her mother Lyndaalive every spring by honoring two 12th graders who are on a career track for nursing with a $250 scholarship a piece. We are not currently able to meet this year’s honorees in person, but those were two checks it felt good to write. We have to keep their names under our hats til Monday.

In the late afternoon, we Zoomed with a few friends who, like us, are veterans of one of Missouri’s finest-ever movie rental palaces, 9th Street Video. We moonlighted there for several years from the time it opened in ’92 (I think) and worked at least one shift a year there for over a decade. I’ve never worked anywhere with smarter and funnier fellow employees. Janet Marsh and Jennifer Cole (the only participants I can tag), let’s do it again.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Few musical genres make me lighter at heart than calypso. See what it does for you!

Cloister Commentary, Day 48: Seclusion from Seclusion

Maybe it’s just teaching, but I’m a month away from starting a new virtual gig, and I’m already nervous. I’ve no reason to be–I’ve done this work for awhile–but I always am, until I’m in it. When my students complain to me of nervousness, I always tell them two things: one, that’s a sign you give a damn, and two, you’re gonna blink and you’ll be on the other side of the event, looking back on it. I should take my own advice.

The air was filled with repugnant news, but four things here in the house were redemptive. Nicole surprised me by restarting a ritual we used to practice: quietly leaving notes of encouragement for each other to find. I threw myself into the three outstanding books currently on my stack, and was deeply rewarded (two are by amazing Mexican writers, Fernanda Melchor and Élmer Mendoza). We had grilled cheese sandwiches (talk about simple pleasures!). And, for a change, we retreated into my basement “office” in the evening to read, hang out with the cats, and listen to music (Moondog, Miles, Carmen McRae) in a nicely secluded environment. Don’t ask me why more seclusion was nice; it just was.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

For some reason I can’t quite put my finger on, Ahmaud Arbery’s murder brings this, top to bottom the greatest reggae album I’ve ever heard, to mind. If you haven’t heard it, you should.

Cloister Commentary, Day 47: A “More” Kind of Guy

I was made to miss teaching again yesterday when I had some interaction with two of my students’ work (and a smidgen with them). My Stephens students have truly struggled with this mess, but one of them, a stellar writer, thinker, and personality whom I met last year in tutoring, just nailed an argumentative research paper on the manga character Tomie (I am sure some of my former students who read this will need no explanation there). She wrote clearly and succinctly, engaged me from the first sentence, taught me things I didn’t know, and had no trouble with MLA citation. She made an A on the paper and in the class–but I wish we could have finished out the semester in person. Her wit made holding class fun.

I also helped a Battle student in the AVID program with a service project essay that’s coming due. She’s under time pressure, she had to babysit yesterday, and she couldn’t get some vital information to me until the late afternoon. By that point, I didn’t have time to give her meticulous editing feedback on the paper; all I could do was text her with 3-4 holistic suggestions, so I felt I’d failed her. However, on the return text volley, she “yelled” “That helps! I get it now! That really helps! Thanks!” A reminder I frequently need: sometimes less is more, and I’m constitutionally a “more” kind of guy (duh).

Speaking of teaching, I recently accepted a job teaching college-credit freshman comp to high school kids in a summer program Stephens College is introducing. I was (and am) a little hesitant, because after 36 years I KNOW I need the catalytic in-person dynamic with my students to really hit on all cylinders, and I’m unsure I can do that virtually. I have the structure in my head, the class “meets” 9-10 MTWTh, and during its eight weeks it should match a 16-week college comp class’ rigor. Do any of my social media friends with experience learning virtually or helping their kids learn virtually have any advice for me? Please comment below!

Still speaking of teaching (zzzzz), I believe Teacher Appreciation Day either happened recently or is coming up. I’d be nothing right now without some amazing teachers, and I’m deadly serious about that. In my high school pantheon: Lee Stevens, the first teacher (he was actually my basketball coach) to treat me like an adult, which I’d been ready for for several years, and Howard South, who amazingly casually unlocked my mind and confidence in his art classes. College: Frank Soos, who was teaching a lesson on Wordsworth when it clicked with me that I wanted to teach, too–he always made the work seem fun, challenging, and honorable–and Dr. Robert Reeser, who I immediately sized up as an ancient old fart on Day 1 and accordingly seated myself in the back of the class, and who by Day 2 had proved so astute, interesting, and funny that I moved to the middle of the front row, right in front of him. Never took a note–just listened, absorbed, and hungrily took his Western civ tests, and I signed up for him second semester though I didn’t have to. I bow in gratitude to you all.

It’s also Nurse’s Appreciation Day. My late mother-in-law Lynda was a hard-working nurse, and every year at this time we have the extreme pleasure of selecting two 12th grade nursing students for scholarships in her honor. Thank all you nurses out there for your selfless, expert, and essential efforts!

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Nicole and I sat on the back deck with our outdoor cats and listened to “The Black Angel with the Velvet Voice,” Cuba’s Armando Garzón. Click and you will hear why:

Cloister Commentary, Day 46: VHS Delivery

What a lower-case “d” day.

Chilly wind and rain, and clouds keeping most of the day dark. Doubts just clinging: about endurance, about adaptability, about sustenance, about work and when play will return, about the country’s future and our group decisions. Fatigue accompanying a return to earth after a relatively exhilarating weekend. Written communication arrived from Andy Cigarettes, and depression loomed so low to our ground we’ve yet to open it.

This Covid-19 stuff is neither easy on the mind, nor the body, nor the soul.

Some admittedly temporary but very effective cures were available to Nicole and me down in our art vault, and we reached for them. Funny, we hadn’t reached for these in long old while: VHS copies of the first Austin Powers movie and Duck Soup. You know, those suckers were supposed to really degrade over time, but the video quality of these was pretty fab, and of course the content instantly lifted our spirits. The former film still has some years to go to prove itself, but I think we can agree The Marx Brothers are capital “E” Eternal. Those movies and mango popsicles did the trick in the nick.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Let’s celebrate another iconic music birthday, shall we? Today will be better, if this conjurer does his magic.

Cloister Commentary, Day 45: Snackery

It was a terrific, peaceful Sunday. A segment on “CBS Sunday Morning” reminded me to ask my small band of readers a question of great importance: since I know all of you, like us, are snacking to beat the band, would you mind commenting with your go-to munchies? Nicole and I are about to turn into Geisha-brand wasabi-coated peas (we’re already like two peas in a pod), we cannot make a bag of Backer’s plain tater chips last more than a day (The Girl with The Golden Curls has her hooks in us), and I believe we’ve gone through five containers of Planter’s Cocktail Peanuts since mid-March. I am warning you: do not buy peanut butter creme Oreos. Don’t do it.

Apropos of nothing except maybe we caught the bug from a vintage concert broadcast Friday night on our favorite community radio station, WWOZ, we cranked up Louisiana music virtually all day long. It. Is. Balm. For. The. Soul. Roll call: Sidney Bechet, Beausoleil, Professor Longhair, Ricky “Shake For Ya Hood”B, Allen Toussaint and Wynton Marsalis (forgive me, but it was his Jelly Roll Morton album, and he can be charming).

Zoomed with my parents, my brother Brian and his best gal Myra. I hope we get to see each other in person soon. Is a 450-mile round-trip drive-by visit silly, or not? It would be 34 hours to Houston and back, though.

My grandpa used to cry watching soap operas, so when I quietly wept watching last night’s wrenching episode of Call the Midwife, I guess I was coming by it honestly. If Nonnatus House gets demolished and that ends the show’s run, I’m going to get mad.

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

I’m dedicating this one to my very sharp former student Amann Woldeghebriel in the hope he’s never heard it. Amann loves jazz and is frequently in search of something great he hasn’t sampled. Dig this, friend. You will be asking about the guitarists: John McLaughlin and Sonny Sharrock. And Miles is ON.

Cloister Commentary, Day 44: Out Where the Buses Don’t Run

Picked up another robust order from Happy Hollow at the Columbia Farmer’s Market. Up in this mess, we could not live without them.

Dropped by Love Coffee to snag some java, muffins, and scones from their tent in the parking lot. Please patronize them if you do chance to get out–they’re one of the good ones. Methinks it’s a touch early, though, for some of the casual interaction we saw among the patrons, but what do I know?

Worked on both of my blogs, the one I transfer these to in slightly modified fashion, and a music site that pretty much exists for a monthly list of goodies. Why do I need TWO blogs? (Calvinist overtraining as a youthman.)

Had a dirty martini. I’d like to recommend Missouri’s own Pinckney Bend gin.

Chauffeured Nicole out to a drive-by celebration of one of her Columbia Area Career Center peers. Stacey lives out there where the buses don’t run!

Devoured a bowl of a fresh batch of Nicole’s red beans and rice with tasso ham. I have been trying to commit to vegetarianism, and not faring poorly, but we are slowly working through some specialty meats we have in the freezer. Next up: the boudin.

Messaged back and forth with my “nephew” and National Guard stalwart Mitch Carlin, who has discovered The Kinks and The Sopranos. He’s always fun to “talk” to, and he has a nose for the finer works of art.

Beat Nicole in a single game of Scrabble to even my tournament record at 2-2. We played until the last tile was used–my favorite kind of game. Musical accompaniment: Carmen McRae, The Coasters, and Hound Dog Taylor (if you’re a fan and you don’t know Release the Hound, change that pronto).

Had trouble sleeping (I’m struggling with that a bit), and found myself, at 3:15, in my head, planning out the weekly class structure for an on-line composition class I may be teaching this summer for Stephens. Hey! I have a plan! Once a teacher…

Streaming for Shut-Ins:

Please enjoy more of the expert percussion of the late Tony Allen.